


You walk in like a spell (I lose it like I'm cursed)

by sunwisher



Series: The Litany of the Cursed [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Cafe owner Seonghwa, Curses, Druid! Yunho, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mage! Hongjoong, Mentions of Violence, Seongjoong are whipped for each other, Smut, Vampire! Yeosang, Warlock-in-training Jongho, Warlocks! Woosan, Werewolf! Mingi, charms and spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-01-03 03:20:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21172580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunwisher/pseuds/sunwisher
Summary: Hongjoong had known that things had been going well, too well perhaps, but as the last chandelier swings from the ceiling, forcing him to watch as each wire snaps one by one, he thinks that even if he knew that all the worry was for this, he couldn’t have possibly stopped it.People who loved Hongjoong had never been receivers of the best fate after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> I promised myself that I wouldn't touch this AU until I was done with the Spy! Seongjoong AU but here I am after seeing the Seongjoong content this week.  
Anyway, the first chapter is pretty much setting but there's some stuff I really put my everything into so I hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> Happy reading, Atiny~

“You okay?”

Hongjoong feels the magic thrumming in his veins sizzle in response to Seonghwa’s voice. It’s funny how the ground beneath them is practically thumping with the music being played but the only thing he hears is the low timbre of Seonghwa’s voice and the soft exhales and inhales escaping him. Hongjoong loves how his magic sometimes decides to have a mind of its own and makes things convenient for him. The other’s arm wraps a little tighter when he doesn’t respond as he chooses to freeze the moment to stare into his dark eyes, the lights in the club flickering across his glowing skin.

He turns his face a little to press a kiss, it’s more a smile than a kiss, against Seonghwa’s neck, nodding his head to assure the other, his hair brushing the other’s neck, Seonghwa’s fingers rubbing circles onto the skin of his waist from where his hands had crept beneath his shirt in response.

“Shall we?”

Seonghwa asks, his voice barely a whisper as he leans down, lips moving against Hongjoong’s ear in that way which never failed in making him shiver.

Hongjoong has half a mind to ask him if they can stay like this, just for a few more minutes, Seonghwa holding him close and their warmth melding into one, comfortable despite the smouldering heat from the uncoordinated bodies on the main dance floor, barely an inch between them.

But he doesn’t.

Maybe it’s because he knows about Seonghwa’s lack of interest towards the clubbing scene, especially with the way the elder is noticeably uncomfortable but still trying to make it seem like he’s having fun for the sake of Hongjoong. It makes him feel a little guilty but more than that, it makes him feel like he’s the only person in the world.

It stems from his undying certainty that Seonghwa knows to deny things he doesn’t like if it’s intolerable. He’s never been one to shy away from being vocal about things, no matter what it might be. A part of his heart sings, his synapses responding in kind when Seonghwa lets his palms rest flat on his stomach, his skin cold against Hongjoong’s own.

It should be borderline scary, the way even the slightest of touches makes Hongjoong feel so viscerally, as if he’s been hung in a zero-gravity space for ages and Seonghwa is the one thing that finally allows him to touch the ground, solid and warm and stable.

They have always been like this, though. Hongjoong can’t remember a time when Seonghwa hasn’t grounded him in reality, weaving his skin with metaphorical touches in the beginning before he progressed to the literal.

A wave of possessiveness seizes hold of him when the girl who’s tending the bar keeps stealing glances at Seonghwa. Hongjoong wants nothing more than to leave then because he doesn’t like sharing but also because the girl doesn’t know anything, doesn’t see anything about this man he loves and would die for, she sees nothing beyond his handsome face and perfect proportions. Seonghwa is too busy looking at him though, eyes liquid black, accentuated by the lights hitting from various angles and making Hongjoong want to take a dive in their depths and never come back up. He mentally chastises by reminding himself of the one of many truths which ring right in their case; Seonghwa doesn’t like to look away from him, not when it isn’t warranted. It’s like his sole existence is rooted on looking at Hongjoong because more than words, it’s silences, meaningful ones, gazes, a myriad of types and heated and mellowed touches Seonghwa uses to articulate himself, and looking away will take much away from the way he likes to map Hongjoong out as if he wants to be able to make sure that he can draw him even with his eyes closed.

It’s a complete contrast to himself though.

Hongjoong is vocal in the literal sense, talking softly but sternly when he’s with the people who seek him for his magical abilities, whining when he’s touch-deprived or ‘Seonghwa-deprived’ as San likes to call it, screeching when Wooyoung and Mingi drive him mad by misplacing, intentionally, the charms he needs for spells, loud when Seonghwa is buried to the hilt in him and dawn is knocking on their doors. Perhaps that’s a huge reason why he’s always admired the other for his ability to say so much with so little.

That’s why he likes to think of them as a dichotomy; Seonghwa is the dark, the comfortable kind, slightly cold and enigmatic but without variation, pulling you in when you’re in dire need for the light to just  _ stop _ , quiet in his presence but not invisible. Hongjoong isn’t the light though Seonghwa thinks otherwise, he just is loud and visible and present and  _ there _ . He knows that his aura is impossible to ignore, not because of his personality or the way he speaks but because the magic in him is fire itself, the element fiercely loyal and blazing and ever undulating beneath the layers of his skin, that which makes it hard to be indifferent to him because his magic pulls and pulls until it is satisfied, curling up like a cat purring when it’s comfortable.

Hongjoong lets his gaze sweep over the people in the club as Seonghwa taps his stomach once, a warning that he’s going to pull away, his hands tightening on him before he lets go and turns to the counter, paying their tab. His eyes land on the dual-toned mess atop San’s hair as he presses Wooyoung to his chest, the shorter boy leaning his head back as San whispers what Hongjoong figures is sweet nothings to him. Mingi is seated on the bar counter on the other side of the dance floor, a careful eye raking over the duo on the floor, pleased and cautious but in his element none the same.

Hongjoong flails his arms in Mingi’s direction, a small ball of magic sent the other’s way because he’s way too tired and languid to bother to take a walk to the taller boy who’s way too fucking  _ far away _ for slightly buzzed Hongjoong to commute to. Mingi flicks his gaze up and raises an eyebrow at the interruption. Hongjoong merely points towards the entrance in a gesture he hopes conveys that they’re leaving.

Mingi, that smug brat, wiggles his eyebrows in the most exaggerated way possible.

Seonghwa must see it, Hongjoong isn’t sure but the taller chuckles, warm breath hitting the back of his sweaty neck, his arms wrapping around Hongjoong from the back, and when he cranes his neck up to meet the other’s gaze, he leans down and presses an open-mouthed kiss against his lips. Hongjoong smiles into the kiss and deepens it, licking and sucking the other’s lips before Seonghwa takes over and makes him feel weak in the knees.

When they part, it’s more like Hongjoong ripping himself off of Seonghwa with the thought of things escalating in the middle of a club, especially with the realization that they’ve quite literally put a checkmark on their unintentional plan of making out in a club, Mingi is staring at them with a disgusted look. He mimes gagging before his face reverts to a fond look. San and Wooyoung are still lost in each other, eyes closed and faces relaxed.

Hongjoong waves at Mingi again, taking short but quick steps to the exit, Seonghwa’s one hand looped in his hands, the other’s grip tight but weightless.

Always weightless.

Light and sweetness.

Floaty and delightfully diaphanous.

That’s how he makes him feel. Not delicate like he will break any moment but delicate like he can afford to have a moment to feel for himself, a moment when he can sit back and allow Seonghwa to handle the weight he carries the rest of the time, delicate like he can allow someone else to take care of him for once, delicate like opening the door for love, widely and without regret.

The joke’s on him though because that door, the one he’s ignored for so long, blatantly and forcefully, it’s been in ruins ever since the day Seonghwa stepped into his life with a curious gaze thrown at Hongjoong who had been kneeling on the sidewalk, meowing to a cat.

Not his best moment but it happened and it’s special anyway because of how momentous it came to mean in the years that followed, not discounting the here and the now.

One of the bouncers at the exit, the one with dark blue hair who visited his shop last week to get a plant growth charm for his girlfriend, waves at him as Hongjoong walks out, Seonghwa in tow, their hands entwined. Hongjoong waves back, it’s more of a habit now than it is a well-meant gesture.

It’s what years of making magic your profession did to you. You could always help people in need but it came with a level of detachment, something Hongjoong has tried but failed miserably in avoiding.

The night is characteristically cold but it bites at his skin despite the constant warmth that Seonghwa exudes.

“Do you still want to walk back home?”

There’s a hint of humour in Seonghwa’s voice, a little smugness probably because he has figured out exactly what Hongjoong is feeling at the moment.

Hongjoong pouts, the couple of drinks he had, already doing their best to bring out his needy side in public.

“You look so smug,” he whines, pausing, “I don’t like it.”

Seonghwa lets out a chuckle. It’s a small sound but Hongjoong’s so whipped he can’t help but tuck that away in a corner of his heart he saves for all the noises Seonghwa makes, little sounds, open laughs and choked off moans.

“I know but you love me,” Seonghwa says, eyes especially bright from the light reflecting from the illuminated sign behind them.

Hongjoong does.

“I do. I love you,” He agrees, easy because it has always been so in his case.

Seonghwa’s fingers tighten perceptibly.

“I love you,” he whispers as if he can’t leave Hongjoong hanging and it’s a little devastating because Seonghwa always says it a little differently like he wants him to know that he’s a little deeper in love with Hongjoong every day.

It’s devastating because Hongjoong has never been loved like that.

The last relationship he had, Hongjoong’s first, had ended badly, a lot of screaming, crying and storming out; the holy trinity of break-ups being a periodic occurrence leading up to it, announcing an end once and for all when Hongjoong finally walked out the door after he found his ex with his tongue shoved in a girl’s mouth when he came home after an appointment with one of his clients. He doesn’t remember what his sorry excuse for a boyfriend of the time had yelled at him when he caught him cheating but he does remember the fucker having the audacity to call him a cheater back only because Hongjoong hadn’t been able to confess to the other that he was a mage.

“We’re done,” he remembers whispering.

The only thing he regrets when he thinks back to that moment in time is how he hadn’t uttered a word after that, tears flowing uncontrollably even as his magic whispered to him to celebrate, reassuring him that someone else who was meant for him was waiting for him on a sidewalk. 

Hongjoong hadn’t heeded the direct hint, simply thinking of it as an attempt at consolation.

With the way Seonghwa is a constant presence in his personal space when Hongjoong wants him to be, he thinks he wouldn’t have believed it anyway. No one and nothing, not even the omniscience of his magic could possibly have convinced him that someone like him existed.

No matter the hour of the day, every moment with Seonghwa has always felt like the best kind of release. Hongjoong used to wonder if he was a burden during the beginning, the awkward fumbling stage of their relationship, Seonghwa the ever eternal archetype of calm and composed as Hongjoong continually attempted to hide the magical side from him in fear of the other leaving. It took both time and copious amounts of effort from both of them till Hongjoong finally allowed himself to unwind consciously in the other’s presence.

Hongjoong is pulled away viciously when a gust of wind hits him in the face, frosty than the air permeating the atmosphere, wicked and terrible, leaving a rancid and bitter taste down his throat. His other hand which is not looped with Seonghwa’s pulls the other almost instinctively towards him by his waist. Seonghwa stumbles forward, raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

“Something’s wrong,” he grits out when the magic in him starts burning, angry at someone who’s in the vicinity with clear intentions of doing harm, his hackles rising with every passing moment.

Seonghwa flicks his gaze around the locality and gives him a look of confusion.

“There’s no one here except the bouncer,” he says in a palpable attempt to calm him down.

“No,” Hongjoong says, a little louder, hands tightening on the other and he’s a little lost because there’s no possible way he can hide Seonghwa behind him, not just because the other is taller but because he doesn’t know the direction from which the malevolence is radiating. It’s almost like they’re enveloped in a bubble of it.

“Hongjoong-ah, there’s no one else,” Seonghwa repeats, his voice soft around his name.

Hongjoong shakes his head.

“You don’t feel it but I do.”

It’s not meant to be a jab at the other’s lack of powers. It’s just the truth.

Seonghwa takes it as such too.

“Should we take a look around?”

He asks, cautious.

Hongjoong has the distinct urge to make Seonghwa go home via a portal, home where Hongjoong has a million wards up to protect him. 

He shakes his head again and closes his eyes because his magic’s screaming something at him and he can’t focus on it with the static created by how his defences are up against the cloud of evil that’s trying to invade their space.

He opens his eyes, it takes only a second, to a dangerous revelation.

Hongjoong lets his hold loosen and pulls Seonghwa closer by the lapels of his jacket, it shouldn’t even be possible with how close they’re standing already. But letting him go isn’t an option with how his senses are all being overwhelmed with a myriad of inputs, his eyes catching on the distinct lack of an amulet around the other’s pale neck.

“Seonghwa, where’s your amulet?”

Seonghwa looks a little startled with the quick question, both his hands coming up to check for said charm.

“I don’t,” he’s shaken, Hongjoong can tell, “I don’t know.”

Hongjoong feels fear grip his heart in a seizing hold.

“When’s the last time you remember seeing it?”

Hongjoong is quick, clinically precise with his question because he’s scared. He should be able to recollect the last time he saw it himself but his ears are ringing and he can’t think of anything else except for protecting Seonghwa. There’s a reason why he took two weeks to make that charm for him. Losing it isn’t a good sign. Seonghwa looks like he realizes this too.

“Joong, I think I lost it in the club,” he pauses, voice lowering as if he’s aware someone else is listening in, “When we came in and you kissed my neck, it got in the way, remember?”

Now that Seonghwa has spoken, Hongjoong does remember.

There’s no point in going back to a packed club and searching the floor for something that has lost its power the moment it was separated from Seonghwa’s skin. He briefly considers calling Mingi and the others for backup before trashing that plan.

“Come on,” Hongjoong says, pulling Seonghwa by his wrist to the nearest alley, a few steps away. His boyfriend follows without question.

Two cats scavenging on top of the open trash bags hiss defensively, their spines curving before they take off down the alley, skittering paws hitting the rain-soaked pavement. It doesn’t register as a good sign either. He sighs to himself and turns to Seonghwa to see the other looking back and forth between the direction the cats took off in and Hongjoong himself.

“What?” He asks, it comes off a little stern but he’s only taking the liberty to speak like that because Seonghwa knows how he gets when magic is involved, especially when there’s danger around the corner.

“The cats didn’t do that because of you, did they?”

And what can Hongjoong say? Seonghwa has always been way too smart for his own good.

Hongjoong shakes his head. Seonghwa nods like he understands. In fact, he knows he does.

He’s exhausted from the appointment the Council assigned to him the previous day without prior warning and from the drinks which were a delightful buzz in his bloodstream rendering him a little dazed but everything is screaming danger and death at him now and it’s daunting, especially because he’s not alone; Seonghwa is with him and he’s the one person Hongjoong has sworn to protect. He kneels down, forcing Seonghwa to accommodate too because he can’t possibly let his touch leave the other when it might be the only thing tethering the other down from the malice pervading the air.

“Don’t let go, okay?” Hongjoong says, his boyfriend nodding in response, expression grave.

Hongjoong’s only created portals a couple of times in his entire life and doing it clutching Seonghwa’s hand in his, for all intents and purposes isn’t as easy as he thinks. Seonghwa does his best though, allowing his hand to relax so that he’s still holding on but not restricting Hongjoong’s movements as much as he would if he were stiff and unyielding.

He stops in his ministrations at the unmistakable yell of “Hyung!” behind them.

The trio throws him pointed glances when he rises, Seonghwa following him.

“It smells like death and black magic,” Wooyoung says and his lips are swollen, certainly from San taking his time with them but he’s worried and Hongjoong would coo if he wasn't so worried for Seonghwa himself.

“I noticed,” He replies.

“You could have just called for backup, you know?” Mingi states and there’s an accusation, perhaps a little anger in the depths of his voice. He checks Seonghwa for injuries, gaze flicking up and down the length of the older’s body before he relaxes a little. Hongjoong appreciates the fact that Mingi always puts Seonghwa first when they’re involved, not because he loves Hongjoong any less but because after years of friendship and brotherhood, Mingi knows that he can hold his own ground. Also, it’s a little cheesy and moralistic but the younger boy has always been all about protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Mingi can get in line in protecting Seonghwa but Hongjoong appreciates the concern all the same.

San throws a look over Hongjoong’s shoulder just as Wooyoung stiffens noticeably.

“We have to go,” Wooyoung squeaks out.

San takes a step around them and kneels down, he’s a warlock so he creates a portal infinite times quicker than Hongjoong can because he relies more on spells than pulling magic right from his veins as Hongjoong does.

San doesn’t warn them. One moment he’s turning and throwing them a smile and the next, they’re in Hongjoong’s shop.

There’s no need to keep holding hands now that they’re in the protection of a number of spells and wards but Hongjoong makes no move to let Seonghwa go.

“So first things first,” San drags out the last syllable, dramatically pausing just as they make themselves at home on the couch and sofa and says, “What the fuck?”

Hongjoong sees Seonghwa smile out of the corner of his eye and maybe he’s a little grateful to San for trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know. It was fine one moment and the next thing I know, there was this sinking feeling and this bitter aftertaste. Seonghwa’s amulet was missing too. My magic was protesting too much so I knew it wouldn’t be safe to stay any longer,” Hongjoong lets out all in one breath.

The trio listens intently, nodding along and Wooyoung leans forward with his palms stretched towards Seonghwa. 

“Hyung, may I?” Wooyoung asks softly. Seonghwa rubs one last circle into Hongjoong’s palm and easily loops his and Wooyoung’s hands together. The younger closes his eyes and frowns.

“Nothing. I can’t find anything,” he grumbles, a few moments later.

Hongjoong already knows this but it feels like a dangerous coincidence; Seonghwa losing his amulet and the overwhelming feeling of animosity that had choked them.

“Maybe it was just a fluke?” San provides and he doesn't sound very convinced and it’s not for lack of trying.

“Hyung, did you feel anything weird?” Mingi asks, gaze fixed on Seonghwa.

“No. Hongjoong told me someone else was there and that something was wrong but I looked around and I didn’t see anything. But he looked so worried so I got thrown off a little too. I lost the amulet Joong gave me,” Seonghwa says, patting Wooyoung’s hands in gratitude and letting go, all the while frowning, face twitching a little as if he can’t make up his mind on what expression to settle on.

Hongjoong wishes he could switch his worry and panic off because Seonghwa’s not worried for himself, he’s not fretting or thrown off balance because he’s scared for himself, he’s merely reacting to Hongjoong’s panic. It fills him with guilt and he wants to tune everything out and get to that moment of peace they shared in the club even with the clamour and the loud thumping of the beat that shook their insides but he’s physically not capable of stopping himself.

“It could have been someone who was in the vicinity though? Someone who practised black magic? Maybe it sensed your presence? You know how that kind of magic is, it has a mind of its own,” Mingi surmises a moment after he processes Seonghwa’s words.

It’s a possibility they can’t ignore. Hongjoong’s a mage. It doesn’t just give him powers beyond the kind that the magic of a witch or a warlock, say San or Wooyoung, could do, it also gives his magic the ability to have a mind of its own. His existence is a careful push and pull, a harmony of the chaotic sorts with the magic that gives him life. It is, for lack of a better word, coexistence. Also inherently weird, rightfully so, and strangely lesser known is the similarity of his magic with black magic. His magic is strong enough as it is and bonded supremely well with his needs and wishes but black magic requires spells and charms and artefacts, with a tendency to spiral out of the control of the wielder.

That’s why the possibility of that kind of profane magic scoping out an area and threatening to pervade the kind of magic Hongjoong carries is worth considering.

“No other way to know except to step out and test it.”

Seonghwa gets up as he says it and his voice is soft but it’s also that tone he uses when he doesn’t want to argue further. Hongjoong shifts in his seat and doesn’t make a move and his heart wells up with fondness when none of the others glances up at the older either, suddenly making the ground their favourite view in the shop. 

They’re clearly not fond of this particular plan. Hongjoong isn’t either.

It’s so quiet for a fraught moment. Seonghwa sighs and it breaks his heart a little when Seonghwa kneels down in front of him, cupping his face with both his hands, the skin cold against Hongjoong’s warmer skin.

“Joong, we have to. I know you don’t like it but I can’t stay cooped here forever and never go out because we misunderstood what really happened today. I have to go to work. I can’t just shut the cafe down and wait out here like a sitting duck. You know that,” Seonghwa stops himself with that, like he’s allowing Hongjoong time for what he said to sink in.

He’s glad for this brief gap as he takes in Seonghwa’s face, letting himself drink it all in.

“If something is actually wrong and this is not just a fluke, we’ll know today, right?”

He asks, continuing when Hongjoong places his hands over his wrists.

What he’s saying is right though. If there really is some fucked up plan to hurt Seonghwa and it is black magic, then the moment Seonghwa steps out the door, they’ll know. Subtlety isn’t the forte of black magic.

Hongjoong nods but doesn’t allow Seonghwa to let go of his face.

“One sign. One single sign of something going wrong and I’m dragging you back in and you aren’t stepping out of here until I allow you to,” Hongjoong’s voice threatens to splinter a little at the edges but he doesn’t let it.

Seonghwa nods, a tiny bob of his head, a stray strand of black hair moving from the side part. Hongjoong lets his wrists go to tuck the piece of his hair to the side.

“No offence but that’s the sappiest shit I’ve seen today and I was in a club watching people say the cheesiest fucking things as they made out literally twenty fucking minutes ago.”

As usual, Mingi’s unprovoked retort is what breaks them apart.

Hongjoong likes to think that his hand doesn’t tremble when he pulls the door open to step outside, Seonghwa held close to him with his other hand.

Wooyoung shoulders past them with San and Mingi, and Hongjoong almost swears but the three form a semi-circle of sorts a few feet away from the entrance. 

Wooyoung extends his palms out as if he’s checking if it’s raining, closing his eyes and mumbling what Hongjoong knows is a spell to unshroud any and all possible malignant forces.

Mingi’s eyes are a blazing gold as he looks around, his hands balled into fists. Hongjoong mentally jots down a reminder to make a charm for him so that he can calm his wolf down when it gets enraged.

“There’s nothing now,” San points out, a little relieved.

Opening his eyes, Wooyoung nods. “I don’t feel anything either.”

Mingi takes a sniff of the air in a way that only werewolves can for locating threats and relaxes.

“Joong,” Seonghwa whispers as if asking why they’re not stepping out.

Hongjoong takes a deep breath and walks outside, feeling nothing in the air except for the warm presence of San and Wooyoung’s wiccan magic, Mingi’s pull to the moon and Seonghwa’s soul, clear and luminescent.

He slowly allows Seonghwa to take a step outside as well and stands with his bones wound tight for a long few minutes before he finally relaxes. 

“Nothing,” It’s half a breath than it is a word. He takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily as Seonghwa smiles at him, pink lips stretched over his teeth and sparkly eyes lighting up with happiness.

Hongjoong feels a little like he’s suspended in time though, the trio’s cheers and whoops entering through one ear and out the other and Seonghwa…  _ his  _ Seonghwa knows him best so he steps in and pulls him closer, letting Hongjoong bury his face against the other’s neck and breathe in his unique scent. 

If his hands on his boyfriend’s waist are a little desperate, perhaps a bit strained, Seonghwa doesn’t speak it into existence, only holding him all the more close.

When San, Mingi and Wooyoung leave with relaxed shoulders after Seonghwa cooks ramen for all of them upstairs in their apartment, Hongjoong silently zones out before he’s pulled into reality by the other.

“Stay with me, Joong,” Seonghwa whispers to him and it shouldn’t sound as needy as it does or make Hongjoong feel as intensely as it does but nonetheless, it’s like Seonghwa’s gotten a hand around his heart and he’s fucking squeezing it.

“I’m here, Hwa. I always am,” Hongjoong reassures, letting himself lean in and get on his tiptoes to press a kiss against his boyfriend’s lips.

When they finally make it to bed, the pleasant buzz from the club which shifted to a languid feeling has hit the last stage and Hongjoong’s dog tired as Seonghwa pulls him closer by his waist, his body, head to toe tucked against Hongjoong’s smaller frame. It’s close to two and Seonghwa has to open the cafe early in the morning but it’s hard for him to fall asleep, this, Hongjoong can tell with the way the small puffs of air hit the back of his neck at uneven intervals. His magic is screaming at him to take a break and lose himself in oblivion.

“Hwa, baby, it’s okay,” Hongjoong murmurs and his voice is wrecked from the sleepy daze and from not talking for a while.

“I know,” Seonghwa murmurs back.

Hongjoong shifts in his hold and turns to face the other. Seonghwa’s eyes are bloodshot, it’s way past the time he usually sleeps except for the nights he stays up waiting for Hongjoong to get home.

“What’s bothering you?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer for a long, overwrought and painful minute.

Hongjoong waits.

“Tonight, you sensed something bad,” bad is an understatement, Hongjoong thinks and his magic agrees too, a patient lion, vicious and powerful but calm nonetheless, but he doesn’t interrupt, “And you were so worried, right? For me? I could see it in your face. It looked like you were scared to death at the possibility of someone bringing me harm and it just…”

Seonghwa hits the nail on the head with that description of what Hongjoong felt in those couple of minutes, is still feeling despite his brain displaying the words  _ crisis averted _ in fucking fluorescent green at the back of his eyelids every time he blinks.

“And just… you looked like you were already figuring out ways to protect me. Hell, you even kneeled on the fucking pavement to draw a pentagram or whatever it is to create a portal when you know you suck at it and you looked as if you’d use every ounce of your magic to fight whoever it was who meant me harm and I realized..”

Seonghwa’s eyes are dangerously bright and wet. Hongjoong dares not move, not even to breathe.

“I realized, baby, Joong, I just.. I was  _ reminded _ ,” he corrects, “that I couldn’t do shit if someone were to cause you harm. All I can do is stand by and watch, maybe scream and shout and get myself killed too in the process,” he’s crying when he says what he does next, “No matter what I do, the truth is that anyone could do anything to you and nothing I would do would be enough, not in your world, not when I’m so weak and fucking pathetic, not when I’m just a man.”

A dam should break now but Seonghwa’s a river, calm and collected, so when he cries, sobbing isn’t a thing he does. He doesn’t break down, knees weak and trembling before he crashes down. Seonghwa is a river that’s too wise and is too fucking  _ calm and collected  _ to lose it like that. Instead, in situations where normal people would wail and screech at the unfairness, Seonghwa’s a quiet presence, tears gathering in his eyes before they spill and that’s only one reason among a million why he’s fucking  _ extraordinary.  _ Not that Hongjoong would love him any less if he crashed against him like waves colliding with a boulder at sea.

That’s why Hongjoong says exactly that.

“Hwa, you may not have magic in you but you’re extraordinary and that’s why I love you,” Hongjoong chokes on the three words so he clears his throat and begins again, “I love you so much. So much that even picturing a day when I can’t come home to you isn’t worth mulling over. You know why? Because I’m too fucking selfish to leave you before I have to. So I’ll always make it back home. That’s why you don’t have to protect me. Because I’ll protect myself enough for the both of us, just so that I can fall a little more in love with you every day and get to have the privilege to do this,” he presses a kiss on the other’s forehead, supporting his elbow on the bed, “every single day for the rest of our lives.”

Seonghwa nods and he isn’t fully convinced, Hongjoong can tell, but he’s a realist so he’ll take time and process it in his own time. 

Hongjoong knows he’ll be right here when that happens.

Perhaps he should let more words slip out but one look at how the other is lost in thought before he shakes himself out of a reverie to kiss him on the lips, salty and desperate, barricades the deluge of words that would have tumbled into the space between them otherwise.

Their worlds may be different and they’ve had variations of the same conversation over the course of the past five years but that doesn’t change what Hongjoong feels for Seonghwa or what he feels for Hongjoong.

And there’s not a  _ fucking _ thing the universe can do about it.

Hongjoong’s magic purrs in contentment at his optimism.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to be 5k? But it is 13.4k? I'm uh.. sorry??

It’s not like he isn’t used to this but somehow today is different. It’s not the kind of different that he can brush off, not the kind that’s barely a speck in your conscious mind but the kind that keeps bubbling from the inside and nags every thought you have, effectively becoming one with your conscience. 

What causes the unsettling feeling to cement itself in him is the realisation that this particular kind of difference terrifies Hongjoong; it worries the light buzzing under the layers of his skin, because it’s the kind of difference that his magic shoves away, or at least attempts to, with its metaphorical limbs and all its might.

It’s all the more terrifying because it only seizes his chest and doesn’t show signs of letting go.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

Mingi’s voice is the sharp beam of light that cuts painfully through the thick shroud of darkness. It pulls Hongjoong out of his reverie but doesn’t make him forget the feeling of terror which has already seized hold of his being.

“It-,” Hongjoong pauses, trying to find the right words to vocalize his exact thoughts, Mingi nods encouragingly, “Something feels wrong. It… I don’t know.”

“You just watched a man kill himself. I think that ‘something wrong’ is an understatement,” Mingi deadpans, though not due to insensitivity, his voice light as if he’s not really realized the ruined state of Hongjoong’s mind in its entirety yet.

“Mingi-yah, it’s not that.” That gets his attention quickly.

“Are you feeling sick or something? Are you drained from healing Keonhee?” Mingi must see something on his face because he stops with a look of sudden seriousness and utters gravely, “Is it Seonghwa hyung?”

There.

_ Finally. _

His brain shuts down for a solid moment, ears occupied with the screech of something that sounds like a banshee’s wail and a werewolf’s pained howl to the moon, eyes screwing shut on their own volition.

The kind of difference he is terrified of, the kind that his brain refused to link together?

It’s got something to do with Seonghwa.

Hongjoong doesn’t register his actions but his hands find his phone as if they have a mind of their own and before he knows it, the bell is ringing in his ear, the screech dying out to the sound of wind and the uncanny feeling of the night. Mingi’s foot taps an uneven rhythm, the sound of his boot muffled against the mat in the car.

Hongjoong wants to breathe but his magic twists and topples as the bell rings on, vomit threatening to poke at his throat, lungs already protesting against the quick denial of oxygen. He holds his breath, Mingi’s feet creating a rhythm almost like the buildup to a climax that has come out of the blue and all of a sudden, unbidden and unaware.

“Joong?”

It’s half his name but Hongjoong feels like Seonghwa has never uttered something so relieving ever in his life. His voice is bright like the flashy neon sweater that Jongho gifted him two Christmas ago, like the light that streams into their room when Hongjoong forgets to close the window of their bedroom, like the aura that surrounds Seonghwa all the time which makes him want to bundle the other up so no one can even think of stealing even an ounce of it away from him.

_ God _ , he was so fucking _ bright _.

“Seonghwa,” he calls, clearing his throat when it comes out sounding like a pained breath.

“Are you okay?” The voice on the other end of the line is Hongjoong’s favourite among the billions in the world but the concern that dilutes it isn’t. 

Hongjoong ignores the question.

“Where are you?”

Seonghwa doesn’t respond for a fraction of a second, probably processing the fact that Hongjoong straight out ignored his question.

The urgency in his veins is incalescent, the searing heat growing the more time Seonghwa takes.

“I’m closing up,” Seonghwa pauses, sighing into the phone, “Yunho is here to help me.”

Hongjoong lets himself take a deep breath, glancing down at his watch which shows that it’s barely ten minutes past eight which is a little early for Seonghwa to close up the cafe.

“Leaving early?” Hongjoong asks, trying to muster as much of a carefree attitude as he can. Mingi throws him a look of disapproval, eyes glinting a light gold before it reverts to dark brown.

Seonghwa sighs again. Hongjoong savours the exhale, one breath among a million, billion Seonghwa will give and take with him.

“You said you’d be home by around 10 so I wanted to make dinner and wait for you.”

It’s so frighteningly easy for Hongjoong to think of Seonghwa standing behind the cash counter, phone attached to his ear with one shoulder awkwardly lifted up, scribbling down his name in frustration this time(with love all the same), on the back of the cafe’s register(which no one ever fucking uses) with that ugly pink pen that Yeosang keeps around for some annoying reason. It’s as if he can see the particular scene play out with the keenest attention to detail but what’s more prominent is the absolute lack of hesitation in the words Seonghwa utters. 

There used to be a time when Seonghwa was embarrassed to say the same thing, when he’d cover the affection with terribly hidden but planned statements and monotone voice, when he’d show up at Hongjoong’s shop at lunch time with a meat casserole because he just _ happened _ to be free, when he’d relax against the cushions of the sofa once Hongjoong stopped trying to wake him to get him to go home when they came back to Hongjoong’s place(now theirs) after a date.

That time was long gone now, paving the way for a time when Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate anymore, when he holds Hongjoong tight because he knows he likes it, when he’ll cry and not hide his tears from him, when he’d stay up late and nod with a tired smile when Hongjoong would ask if he stayed up for him, when he just _ does _without hesitation but remains considerate.

“Hongjoong-ah,” he says, in that tone he uses when he’s about to prod. Hongjoong leans back in his seat, the leather sharing his weight.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa repeats, this time, softer and somehow more fond.

Hongjoong nods before realising Seonghwa can’t see him, whispering an affirmation into the phone.

“When will you be home?” Seonghwa inquires after an intended pause, clearly understanding that Hongjoong isn’t feeling particularly chatty, that he’d be content with letting Seonghwa take the lead with the conversation.

“A little later than we expected,” he looks at Mingi who mouths _ midnight _ at him, the younger pulling his phone out, poking on the screen, “Probably around midnight.”

Seonghwa hums, his baritone voice tired but oozing comfort.

“You’re not hurt, are you?” 

Hongjoong smiles.

“No,” he replies.

“Was it too stressful? Did someone get hurt?”

Hongjoong smiles again, his magic unwinding the more it takes in Seonghwa’s presence albeit through a myriad of wires and precariously settled towers.

It takes a second, though, for the questions to register. Hongjoong resists the urge to tear up. Detachment should be easy but this particular case hits a little close to home because Hongjoong knows that if it came down to it, he’d have done the same.

“Joong?” Seonghwa calls.

“I’m here. The man… he died. Killed himself actually,” he takes a lungful of breath, eyes replaying the memory of the man who’d gone too far for someone he loved, who’d set himself on fire at the revelation that Hongjoong and Mingi had brought to him.

For one particularly long second, Hongjoong feels like all he has done is bring pain to the people he meets.

“It’s not your fault, you know that right?” 

Just like every other time, Seonghwa knows him best.

Seonghwa’s question isn’t really a question. It only sounds like he wants affirmation but Hongjoong has known him long enough to know he’s worried beyond belief and just wants him home.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong murmurs unconvincingly.

Seonghwa doesn’t respond, his instincts probably asking him not to say anything further with regard to this particular topic.

“Will Yunho drop you home?” 

Hongjoong asks when the reason he called comes back to him as subtle as a flashy neon sign in a crowd of black.

“I haven’t asked him,” a pause, “Do you want me to?”

Hongjoong doesn’t tell Seonghwa that he might _ kind of _have a deal with both Yeosang and Yunho about Seonghwa’s late nights and closing up, especially Fridays. It’s not that he’s obsessed with playing the archetypal role of an overprotective boyfriend, it’s just that things are never that easy or good for this long of a time in their world and he knows Seonghwa gets it but he doesn’t quite understand what drives Hongjoong to the point of exhaustion with just concern for him. 

That’s a lie. He does know.

But just as Hongjoong’s magic or the vicious strikes of Seonghwa’s low self-esteem liked to remind them, there’s not much that the slightly elder man can do against the forces that hide in the shadows and live clandestine existences among the mundane, forces that could be friendly but were dangerous more often than not.

It’s why when Yeosang had come up to Hongjoong on an eventful day a couple of years ago, the vampire’s eyes brimming with concern over a mugging incident and Seonghwa, Hongjoong had merely thanked him and nodded along to the deal. When Yunho was drawn to their city from the outskirts because of one magical anomaly, Hongjoong honestly hadn’t expected him to stay, much less take one look at Hongjoong’s concern on a video chat with Seonghwa a year ago and volunteer to keep Seonghwa off the land of dangers even when Hongjoong wasn’t there.

Hongjoong might not agree in public, or in a crowd of all eight of them, bottles in front of them and all of them in various states of inebriation and teasing is the only form of communication they’re capable of but he’s grateful for their little band of supernatural beings, for their cooperation and for their unspoken agreement to always protect Seonghwa first, something like the position of default priority falling to him.

“Could you?” Hongjoong hums, knowing Yunho will only roll his eyes and drop Seonghwa home, waiting with his car parked outside no matter what, driving away only when the lights illuminate on the first floor.

Hongjoong smiles at Mingi who leans his head on the steering wheel, staring up at him like a tired puppy, all dog jokes aside, as Seonghwa giggles in embarrassment when Yunho says something to tease him.

“He said you should pay him for playing chauffeur,” Seonghwa says, laughter hanging onto his voice.

“Tell him I pay him enough as it is by bringing his boyfriend home in one piece.”

Mingi snorts from his seat at Hongjoong’s response, mumbling something about Hongjoong being too small to protect him which makes him smack him on the head.

“He said that you’re an ungrateful brat and that his boyfriend is fully capable of protecting himself.”

Hongjoong laughs at the bratty claim but doesn’t say anything, even if his mind replays a hundred instances when Mingi has done everything except for protecting himself.

Seonghwa quips back when Yunho says something again but Hongjoong’s too out of it to notice.

Seonghwa calls his name, whispers it almost and repeats it, as if he’s asking him to remember who he is, a reminder of what he means to him, everything they’ve ever meant to each other, still do, crammed into the space of two calls of his name.

Seonghwa has always been talented in that regard.

Of showing Hongjoong affection in the smallest ways possible with the greatest magnitude, the greatest impact.

He calls Seonghwa’s name, repeats it, heart squeezing painfully in his chest, wanting nothing more than to run back home and just touch his boyfriend because Seonghwa’s _ too _good to be true and he needs to know that he’s here, he’s real and he’s in love with him.

“Just… come home, Joong.”

And home isn’t four walls of their place, isn’t the warded barriers of his shop, isn’t his grandmother’s house he had spent most of his life in.

Instead, it is the arms of a man who looked at him as he meowed to a cat and decided to initiate a conversation, who keeps him rooted in the real even when their definitions for real and true differ way too much, who can take a single glance at him and read him as if he’s a children’s tale that everyone knows every little part of, the man whose smooth skin where his shoulder and neck meets gives him the most comfort.

Home is Seonghwa.

Hongjoong mumbles a confirmation and hangs up.

“Okay now?” Mingi pulls on his seatbelt and twists the key to start the car.

Hongjoong nods.

He’s okay.

He should know that just like things weren’t really bad for a long time, things couldn’t stay good for a long time too.

That’s just the way the world worked and as a mage, he guesses he really should know better than to assume.

The moment, though, seize the moment, he tells himself as Mingi drives away from the house of the now-dead man. If Hongjoong closes his eyes, the smell of charred flesh and vengeance still makes him reel.

***

Hongjoong sprints up the stairs, the keys to his shop dangling from his index finger, magic buzzing in relief and happiness at the feeling of home and the comprehension that Seonghwa is just a door away from him. 

He thanks Mingi mentally for not coming upstairs and going straight home. It’s not that he minded the werewolf visiting, it’s just that he doesn’t think he can hold his emotions in after seeing Seonghwa in what has only been close to two days even though it feels like it’s been longer than that, especially with how both him and his magic has been antsy and winded up, the feeling proliferating with the passing of every hour.

Hongjoong is at the door, his hand going for the handle when the door swings open and Seonghwa, _ his _ beautiful, exhausted Seonghwa, comes into view.

They stare at each other, breaths uneven and it’s Seonghwa who reacts first, leaning down and into Hongjoong’s space, lanky arms going around Hongjoong’s midriff and almost lifting him with the intensity of the hug.

Hongjoong melts into the embrace, walking forward still holding on tight to Seonghwa, his boyfriend slowly walking backwards with every step Hongjoong takes. When they’re a few feet into their home, Hongjoong stops and kicks the door closed behind him, wanting nothing more than to be even closer to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa presses a smile to his lips and giggles when Hongjoong can’t resist a smile either, Seonghwa’s steady breathing in his ears and his precious warmth pressed against the length of his body.

“I missed you so much.”

Hongjoong doesn’t tell him he saw him just a day and a half ago, just cards his fingers through the slightly rough strands of hair at Seonghwa’s nape, his chin hooked over the taller man’s shoulder because the other has gotten used to crouching low when they’re hugging compared to the initial stages of their relationship when hugs were awkward because of their height difference.

Seonghwa smells like coffee, a scent Hongjoong has learned to associate with him, something that lingers on his skin even after long showers, along with something woodsy and fresh even if he’s wearing Hongjoong’s oversized blue sweatshirt, their scents mingling together in the best way possible and he takes a deep sniff, Seonghwa giggling in response, too familiar with Hongjoong’s tendencies or scent kink as Wooyoung had so eloquently put it.

“Sometimes I doubt if I’m in love with a werewolf or a mage,” Seonghwa remarks, arms still twined around Hongjoong’s torso.

Hongjoong feels his heart embark on a race at the four-lettered magical word but they’re having a moment, a playful one and he is too emotionally exhausted to pull on it, and make Seonghwa repeat it, not that this is the first or the last time he’ll hear it, so he just hugs him tighter, Seonghwa relaxing against him even more than he is already.

“Take it back,” Hongjoong says, the werewolf comment a running joke between them, their lips touching but not kissing yet.

Hongjoong noses along the other’s jawline and licks at the spot under his ear, Seonghwa shivering in his hold before he pulls back a little to connect their lips together.

“Never,” Seonghwa insists, throwing him a challenging look.

He pulls him closer and Hongjoong rakes his gaze over the map that is Seonghwa, his perfectly proportionate face. His answering gaze whispers love and comfort and something Hongjoong has always been unable to name because he isn’t sure what comes _ after _ love. 

Seonghwa’s face is the canvas of that feeling that is beyond everything Hongjoong can ever remember feeling, some transcendental realm of love, something metaphysical that just goes above and beyond the sensation of the magical words and he wonders if Seonghwa can see it reflected on his face too. He’s busy drinking in the lines and curves of Seonghwa’s face when he presses even closer and entwines their lips, first soft like petals clashing before he takes with the force of a wave and then with the strength of a storm.

Hongjoong feels his breath catch in his throat as Seonghwa’s hands tighten around him as if close isn’t close enough, until there’s not even a needle-thin gap between them, his tongue hot and heavy in his mouth, sweeping over Hongjoong’s gums and kissing like he always does, like he’s tucking it all into a corner of his mind, like he knows he’ll have Hongjoong forever but still wants their past and present in that part of his mind where he can replay it even if he knows what the future will bring.

By the time Seonghwa and coffee is all Hongjoong can taste, his warmth all he can feel, Hongjoong has long forgotten the challenge and when Seonghwa’s cold palms find their way on Hongjoong’s hips, he thanks the universe and leans in again, one hand cupping Seonghwa’s jaw, kissing him slowly, savouring every moment, every sensation, their tongues engaged in a slow dance of their own.

Seonghwa pulls back first when Hongjoong sighs into the kiss for what feels like the umpteenth time.

“You’re tired,” he states, voice tinged with concern but a little breathy from their tame makeout session. Hongjoong can’t help but feel a little smug.

“Yeah,” Hongjoong agrees, watching Seonghwa’s face fall, “But not to make out though.”

Seonghwa shakes his head but Hongjoong steps into his arms again, and kisses the breath out of him, tongue roving and mapping his warmth, euphoria swirling in the chambers of his heart, his veins alive with his magic which shares his happiness and desire until Seonghwa smiles into the kiss, their teeth clashing making Hongjoong smile as well. Seonghwa removes one hand from around his waist, the other still keeping him close and stops Hongjoong from leaning in with a palm placed flat on the plane of his chest before retracting it.

“No, you,” he pokes him with his index finger in the middle of his chest, “are going to have dinner and then sleep because any less sleep and I’ll have a boyfriend who looks like a panda.”

Hongjoong whines in mock offence.

Seonghwa merely links their fingers together and guides Hongjoong to the dining table. He doesn’t mean to do it consciously but as Seonghwa makes him sit at the table and traipses to the kitchen after sending him a smile, thin tendrils of gold extend from his hand and grow towards him, looping around like vines in the space between them before a particular tendril curls around Seonghwa’s wrist. Maybe it’s the fact that this isn’t the first time this has happened that makes Seonghwa turn around with a fond look, eyes oddly glassy, exuding happiness and love.

“Baby, I’m just going to get dinner,” Seonghwa assures as he comes right back to Hongjoong who turns and hugs him close to him, face pressing into the soft flesh of his stomach covered by the smooth fabric. 

Hongjoong wills himself not to cry because Seonghwa is the only person who has ever held him like this, fingers carding through his unwashed hair, knowing nothing else but to love Hongjoong and give him the things even he doesn’t know he needs. 

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Hongjoong thinks that maybe if he says it out loud, what has been stuck in his throat since he and Mingi came to know exactly what had conspired, the trepidation that has worried him for two long days beyond the concerns he already has for Seonghwa, maybe if he vocalizes them, it will go away. His magic stays silent, except for a small nudge, as if it has pushed the ball into his court, making it his call to decide whether or not to do this.

Hongjoong has never had to hide anything from Seonghwa about the things he did on the jobs the Council assigned to him or the clients who came to him. He didn’t tell him everything but when Seonghwa would vent to him about the burly man who annoyed the hell out of Yunho in making a perfect cappuccino, or the old woman who gave him pastries she made even if he owned a cafe and made pastries himself on the daily, he’d also contribute by discussing about the time he and Keonhee had gotten stuck in a forest because they pissed some faeries off or the time when Mingi had hit it off with a werewolf who had temperament issues and he’d felt proud.

There are some jobs though, which Hongjoong keeps away from Seonghwa because despite his boyfriend knowing that him being a mage and actively doing magic is dangerous, he doesn’t actually have physical proof of any of that happening. It’s mostly because Hongjoong tries to gloss over the details in an effort to not worry his love to an early grave.

Some days though, he can’t help himself because when anything on a job reminds him of Seonghwa, it’s a hard battle to keep his detachment skills in full display and he crashes like a plane against harsh winds and loses all sense. 

Lately, he’s been on constant guard because even if his magic doesn’t particularly convey anything, he feels like something’s coming and his serial worrying has been on an all-time high.

Seonghwa leans down and presses a kiss into his hair, moving to pull away thinking Hongjoong isn’t up for a conversation. 

Hongjoong holds him a little closer.

“The man we went to see… he is…. was a warlock. Mingi and I went to deliver news of his girlfriend’s death. She went missing a couple of weeks ago and they found her body at the Council quarters two days ago,” Hongjoong feels tears rolling down his cheeks, “It’s like he knew, Seonghwa. He opened the door and walked inside without inviting us in. He looked so exhausted and then we sat down and I told him about it. He didn’t say anything for some time and just… he stood up and asked us to keep our loved ones close and set himself on fire.”

_ I couldn’t help but think of that happening to you. What would I do in a world without you? How could I possibly breathe when I know you aren’t there to share the rest of my life with me? _

Hongjoong muffles the thoughts against Seonghwa’s body heat but he holds him like he knows the exact path Hongjoong’s mind has plotted for him as he shivers and sobs into his stomach, whispering reassurances and his name over and over. When Hongjoong is done crying, Seonghwa pulls him to their bedroom, his own face streaked with tear tracks.

“I’ll be right back,” he whispers and walks out the door.

Hongjoong’s heart yearns for Seonghwa.

When he returns with a bowl of rice and bulgogi, Hongjoong’s favourite, he tells him he doesn’t have to force himself to eat but that he’d like it if he ate it because he knows he hasn’t had anything the whole day.

Hongjoong does end up eating because Seonghwa sits with him and pulls him under one arm, his chin tucked on top of his head.

It’s a thought he’s had before, that Seonghwa doesn’t need magic to make Hongjoong feel like the luckiest man alive. That he was just magical enough to make him feel loved.

And it’s moments like these, which happened more often than not which reaffirms and steels his faith in this belief. His magic warms a little as if in agreement.

Night is in full swing, silent and calm when Hongjoong burrows closer into Seonghwa’s warmth, like a sunflower following its way up to the first dawn of the sun on the entirety of the world.

Seonghwa unconsciously scoots closer, their foreheads touching. Hongjoong blinks and stares at his boyfriend, thinking to himself that when you are in the presence of someone like Seonghwa who reminds you of everything soft and light, that there’s really not much you can do except stare. 

It’s more of a reminder than a realization. 

From the half-hearted peek he had taken at the small alarm clock near the door, parallel to the space behind Seonghwa’s ear, Hongjoong knows that sunrise is still a few hours away. Even then, he feels the vibrancy of the soul of the other leak in colourful smoke-like ripples and embedding itself into the dark ball of angst and concern that he is. He almost wants to run downstairs and strip the couch of the thick grey blanket and wrap the other in it, just so this soft glow that encompasses Seonghwa, this light that Seonghwa is, won’t fade away.

His hand is still safe within the other’s long fingers. He wonders if he’s draining his boyfriend of his nebulous, calming radiance. He doesn’t want to but he can’t help it.

For the first time in a long time, Hongjoong thinks of heaven.

Seonghwa opens his eyes like a door to the roof just as thoughts of paradise flicker through the dark dungeons of Hongjoong’s mind. 

It is like seeing a prompter and artist sync up on stage.

He blinks hazily, eyes focusing on Hongjoong after some seconds and his lips break out into a smile, exuding nothing but assurance, like he knows Hongjoong’s no one to be scared of, as if he’s aware that nothing will hurt him even in the muted glow of the moon with Hongjoong nearby.

They don’t exchange words, looks are good enough.

Hongjoong closes his eyes and slips into the hands of Hypnos, letting himself have a break, and hopes Seonghwa is also in the half-asleep state which will make it easier for him to fall back asleep.

The next time his eyes find the light is when the distinct sound of Seonghwa’s unceasing coughing enters his ears. Seonghwa is sitting hunched over on the edge of the bed, one hand gripping the edge of the mattress for leverage as his body shakes with the intensity of the prolonged coughs. Hongjoong sits up with a groan which makes Seonghwa turn his head with an apologetic look before he coughs again.

“Hwa, you okay?”

Seonghwa nods even as the coughing continues, breaths loud and the tiniest wheezes audible from within his chest cavity in the moments when he’s not choking his lungs out.

Hongjoong is turning to the other side and pouring some water in a glass when he feels Seonghwa’s weight lift as he rushes to the bathroom, both hands pressed to his mouth in what seems like an attempt to muffle his coughs.

Hongjoong gets up to follow him, the glass of water still clutched in his hand but the bathroom door swings shut. The sound of the faucet turning on and a stream of water alternately hitting skin and then ceramic reaches his ears.

Hongjoong settles back on the mattress, two fingers pressed against his forehead, an incoming headache making its course known.

An ugly feeling creeps from deep inside him and he’s up on his feet in no time but it’s then that Seonghwa opens the door, the whiny drag of it getting his attention.

Seonghwa’s face is red and blotchy from the blood rushing to his face, probably from all the coughing. His eyes are tinged with red, sweat and water making his hair wet and clump together and stick to his forehead but he’s no longer coughing.

Hongjoong offers him the glass of water and Seonghwa’s gaze is panicked as he flicks it over his face. Hongjoong smooths his hair back only for it to fall back down on his forehead. Taking a gulp of water, Seonghwa opens his mouth to say something but doesn’t voice it.

“What?” Hongjoong asks.

Seonghwa shakes his head and the smile his face breaks out into is lined with something that unsettles Hongjoong.

“Hwa?”

“I’m sorry for waking you up. Let’s just sleep.”

Hongjoong wants to protest but Seonghwa seems like he’ll collapse from exhaustion any moment now and he doesn’t want it to happen. 

When Seonghwa pulls him close to his chest, Hongjoong feels the other’s heart pounding loud and insistent, his magic flaring up in warning but before he can ask what he’s scared of, Hypnos pulls him far away to the land of repose.

***

Hongjoong is in his shop, Jongho flitting around the room singing a ballad in a wispy voice when he remembers the potion he promised Mingi in order to control his temper better. He’s not a warlock so he only needs rosemary and star anise with a string of his magic, especially considering the fact that his magic recognises Mingi, to make the potion. Jongho switches to humming another song and if he listens in close enough, Hongjoong can tell it’s something he heard Yeosang play in the cafe when he visited Seonghwa at work two days ago.

_ Whipped _ , he thinks, not having the guts to utter it because as long as he and Seonghwa were together( _ he can’t imagine a time when they’re not _), he doesn’t think he can get away with calling anyone whipped for someone when he and Seonghwa were textbook definitions of the word.

With Jongho and Yeosang though, it’s not hard to draw the connection but he thinks that he’ll wait for the pair to confirm it and dance around each other a bit more before he joins the rest of the gang in teasing and playfully confronting them with it.

Jongho looks up in suspicion.

“This is creepy,” he says, side-eyeing him.

Hongjoong shrugs.

“Just checking if you’ve grown taller,” he comments in an attempt to cover up his thoughts.

Jongho frowns in offence before he breaks out into a grin.

“At least I can still grow, you’re going to be stuck at standard leprechaun height for as long as you live, hyung. It’s a sad life, isn’t it?”

Hongjoong throws the stack of rowan leaves at the young warlock.

A flash of light, a rose petal shower and Jongho spitting two petals from his mouth follow.

“I’m not cleaning it up,” Hongjoong mutters, pointedly glancing at the red petals that populate the polished dark wooden floor. 

“Also, good luck finding an excuse when Yunho comes looking for rowan leaves,” he grins sardonically.

Jongho lets out a scream of frustration, flipping him off.

“Rose petal shower,” Hongjoong laughs, “good job, Warlock Choi.”

The younger boy huffs and crouches down to gather a handful of red petals to throw at him. 

Hongjoong doesn’t dodge, twisting on his heel to open the overhead drawers which hold the few things he uses in potions, most if not all of the jars and their contents gifts from San and Wooyoung after they returned from jobs for the Warlock Collective. He gets up on his toes to reach for the rosemary, noticing that the star anise is nowhere to be seen.

"Jongho-ya, have you seen the star anise?”

Jongho mutters something under his breath like the indignant and disrespectful brat he is, still gathering the petals on the floor but he must take pity on Hongjoong because he pokes his head around the table.

“It’s in the other drawer. I took it to give some to Seonghwa hyung.”

Hongjoong frowns to himself as he opens the other drawer grabbing both the spice in question and a wooden container.

_ What did Seonghwa need star anise for? _

“Did he ask for them?”

Jongho stands, slightly wobbly on his feet from having kneeled on the floor for some time.

“You weren’t here last week, right? I think hyung was having trouble sleeping. I was closing up late on Friday and he asked if I could give him something to help him sleep. I didn’t want to give him the draught so I just gave him anise seeds.”

Last week, Hongjoong along with San, Wooyoung and Yunho had been summoned after a call from the Council to assist with a warding ceremony in Busan. Hongjoong knew that Seonghwa had been feeling more exhausted than usual and Yunho had tried all his tricks on the Council envoy so that he could stay and take some extra shifts at the cafe to help the elder out. Hongjoong couldn’t have stayed back because he was one of the three mages who worked in coalition with the Council so he hadn’t hindered Yunho’s attempts to stay either but none of it had worked. 

Seonghwa had just waved a hand and hugged him extra tight when he told him about the trip even though Hongjoong was aware that the other was disappointed and sad for some reason beyond just him staying away for a whole five days.

Looking back at it, he feels like Seonghwa really needed him to stay but Hongjoong had been too occupied with back-to-back jobs on top of his regular clientele’s frequent visits at the shop to actually have a proper conversation with Seonghwa beyond the mumbled sweet nothings before they crashed on the bed together. Yesterday, when he finally found some time to visit the cafe, Seonghwa had been too busy with the customers but Hongjoong had noticed how he paused at the door to the kitchen, hand trembling on the wooden frame. He hadn’t called him out on it, only refused to let him roll away from him even in sleep, tendrils of magic healing him in the space between his arms.

But asking Jongho for help, even if it was in his absence and not mentioning it to him, wasn’t a very Seonghwa thing to do.

_ It must have slipped his mind _, he tries to rationalize.

Hongjoong tries to push it to the back of his mind. If Seonghwa didn’t want to tell him, he didn’t want to prod but having shared so many things together, having reached a point when they tell each other even the little things, something like sleep is a deal big enough that the fact that he has kept it from him doesn’t seem like a good sign.

It’s not anger, merely a brand of curiosity and concern that seeps in his veins and simmers in his blood. In all the time he’s known Seonghwa, there have never been things the other has voluntarily hidden from him but he figures that there’s always a first time and files it away for later, occupying himself with the rosemary and star anise concoction.

***

Hongjoong’s lips curl up in a smile as he sips his americano, eyes set on Jongho who pouts at Seonghwa to give him a drink that is not as sweet as the caramel mocha he’s holding. The elder shakes his head in amusement.

“Yeosangie made it for you. You have to drink it or he’ll get hurt,” Seonghwa counters, shaking his head in playful disapproval.

Jongho sighs in defeat, throwing a pointed glance to the kitchen at the back as if Yeosang will materialize there simply because he’s looking. Hongjoong smiles to himself as the youngest shakes his head and settles down opposite him, nose scrunching as he takes another sip of his coffee.

The ambience in the cafe is soothing, the tranquil vibe further augmented by how early it is, dawn coming to light with its platter of crimsons and auburns, the clock on the wall showing that it’s only fifteen minutes past five. There are dark circles under Seonghwa’s eyes but his eyes are bright as he switches on the coffee machine, and Hongjoong can’t drag his gaze away from him.

Not that he ever remembers a time when he was able to look away.

Hongjoong hadn’t really intended on leaving with Seonghwa in the morning but healing the injured werewolf from their neighbouring pack had taken a lot out of him. That coupled with the fact that Jongho deserved a break from all the progress he’d been making had made him really set his foot down on closing the shop for the day. He could draw energy from the elements, that’s usually what he did when his own reserves were drained, but he’d wanted to take a break for a while now, one day or even just half a day to spend some time with Seonghwa, away from work and the stress it caused.

The plan was to sleep in till noon and Seonghwa had promised him he’d close the cafe to go for lunch to their favourite barbecue place two blocks away. But Seonghwa’s uneven breathing in the middle of the night had placed quite the challenge for Hongjoong to fall to a fitful sleep, body wound with tension. So when the other man had gotten up at four like he usually did to leave for work, Hongjoong had tagged along, partly to keep an eye on him and partly to fulfil the desire to spend his free time with him.

Jongho moves his open notebook to Hongjoong, setting his coffee down. Hongjoong raises an eyebrow in a silent enquiry.

“It’s a potion,” he does jazz hands making Hongjoong snort and set his coffee down too, “A potion, if it’s right, that should make vampires be able to enjoy human food for a few hours at least.”

Feeling his eyebrows rise up even higher, Hongjoong grins as he turns the notebook around to read its contents.

Jongho shifts in his seat in barely concealed anticipation. 

If Hongjoong drags the moment out for a bit long only to sneakily catch glimpses of Jongho acting like the youngest, lips jutting out in a pout, something he very rarely does in the presence of others, no one has to know. Seonghwa sends him a knowing look from where he’s setting up the counter.

Jongho looks behind him at Seonghwa and then at Hongjoong, making an offended noise at the back of his throat.

“Hyuuuung,” he whines.

Hongjoong decides to concede.

“Hypothetically,” he pauses dramatically, “it should work perfectly. If worse comes to worst, we’ll have to find him an additional supply of blood.”

Jongho’s face lights up with excitement and a fond look crosses his features that Hongjoong would have missed had he not been looking closely.

“Did something happen?”

Jongho gives him a sceptical look before he catches on to the fact that he isn’t teasing, that it is a genuine question.

“He said he misses being able to enjoy food,” Hongjoong gestures at him to elaborate, “I cooked jajangmyeon yesterday and he ate it just so I’d have company, even if it tastes pretty much like ash to him. When we were washing dishes, he said he misses eating and enjoying something other than just blood.”

Maybe it’s dawn that does it or the warmth in Jongho’s gaze as he sets his eyes on the notebook and then Hongjoong but he takes a deep breath and reaches for the younger’s hand settled on top of the table. Jongho looks up.

“I’m proud of you, you know that right?”

Jongho nods with gusto and squeezes his hand. Hongjoong squeezes back and lets go, proud of the young warlock for opening up, for letting their septet in, for loving them and always keeping them on their toes when things got too serious and for taking responsibility in times of need.

Jongho is recalling a particularly eventful full moon with Mingi and his pack when a faint tinkling draws their attention to the door as a stranger walks in; a tall lanky (_ boy? man? _), clad in a thin t-shirt and a worn, half-zipped up black hoodie, his hair tucked inside a black beanie and hands occupied with a large white and red bouquet.

He stills as the boy looks straight at him, drawing his gaze up from the linoleum floor, and then at Seonghwa. Usually, customers started coming in early, the cafe serving more youngsters in the early hours than working adults, and it shouldn’t strike him as weird or foreboding but even Jongho shifts in his seat as he looks between the stranger and Hongjoong. His magic flares up like a heatwave, blood rushing to the tips of his fingers.

“Hyung,” Jongho calls, tone serious.

Hongjoong takes a closer look at the bouquet, the vivacious scarlet of the petals of the flowers in the middle taking a while to register.

The boy walks to the counter, ordering something in a whisper and hands the bouquet to Seonghwa, gesturing outside. He pays for his coffee and leaves, gone in mere moments.

Seonghwa lifts the bouquet to his nose and just as he is about to sniff it, both he and Jongho get up, their momentum knocking their chairs over. Hongjoong feels the sea roar in his ears as he motions the bouquet away, the blur of red, white and green flinging away from Seonghwa.

“Joong?” Confusion is etched palpably on his face.

The ruckus summons both Yeosang and Yunho from the kitchen, the vampire and the druid taking in the state of the shop, Hongjoong’s magic having pushed away more than just the offending bouquet but also the chairs and the tables which had been painstakingly arranged.

Jongho is the one who runs to Seonghwa who keeps staring at him for a response as Hongjoong stands petrified, frowning at the bouquet like it might turn into a snake at any moment. It was the red which caught his eye and made him fling it away but looking at it now, he recognises the white petals too, their seemingly innocent facades not fooling him.

He turns to face Yunho and points a finger at the bouquet. Both Yeosang and Yunho follow his finger to glance at it.

Yunho’s eyes widen with shock.

“Will someone just tell me why you’re looking at the bouquet like that?” Seonghwa asks, irritation grating his voice and he continues, gesturing in the general direction of the chairs, “Or explain this mess?”

“Begonias,” Yunho mutters, making Hongjoong flinch.

“And?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow.

Hongjoong feels his tongue loosen from its tied state and decides he’d explain himself than drag Jongho or Yunho into this.

“The flowers in the bouquet, they’re begonias and lilies.” The mention of lilies makes Yunho flinch in the corner of his eye but Seonghwa stares on with unresolved confusion.

“I don’t get it. It’s from the flower shop one block over. Taeyong hyung always sends me flowers in the morning.”

Hongjoong knows that but it’s not easy coming to terms with the implication that someone has been observing Seonghwa for God knows how long to send him this warning.

“It’s not Taeyong hyung who sent this, Hwa. It has black magic written all over it. Begonias symbolize death and a warning to be beware,” Hongjoong inhales sharply, “and lilies… they’re used in funerals for a reason. They’re both flowers associated with death and giving someone a bouquet of both is equivalent to wishing…” 

Hongjoong runs a hand over his face, struggling to finish the sentence.

“It’s equivalent to wishing death upon the receiver,” Yeosang says, voice frozen over, leaving no window open for emotion to crawl through, his years and experience beyond what any of them have seen making its presence known in his ability to detach himself.

Seonghwa flicks his gaze over Hongjoong and taps Jongho who is holding him by the wrist, the youngest letting go. He walks over to Hongjoong who feels something crawl at the base of his throat, his heartbeat threatening to jump right out of his chest as Seonghwa puts his arms around him and hugs him, words dying a quick death in the bridge above the river that is Seonghwa.

Hongjoong feels guilt blend with fear because he just revealed that Seonghwa might be in the list of someone with not-so-good intentions and he should be the one offering safety and comfort, yet his human boyfriend is the one stepping in to do what he should be doing.

“I have you,” Seonghwa whispers so softly that Hongjoong doubts if the others can hear it, “I don’t care about anything else. Not warnings, not death, nothing.”

It’s impractical but it is what Hongjoong wants to hear but the relief that washes over him is momentary as he takes in the weight of what Seonghwa has just admitted. He pulls away from Seonghwa as if electrocuted, a flash of hurt flickering on his face that Hongjoong swears he’ll apologize for after he’s learned the extent of whatever is happening here.

Yunho steps forward when he does too, both of them kneeling on the floor, palms extended from opposite sides, hovering above the bouquet. For any mundane walking in, this must be the funniest sight, cafe workers huddling in the middle, hands held above a seemingly virtuous bunch of flowers or recreation of some fucked up subverted ritual of ouija boards or an attempt at a demon summoning without a devil’s trap.

Yeosang must realize this because he looks at Hongjoong and nods curtly before locking the entrance.

Hongjoong finally focuses on the bouquet, his magic boiling, sizzling heat spreading all over, tendrils of yellow catching on to the stems of the flowers before they retreat back to his palms.

“It’s definitely black magic,” Yunho agrees with Hongjoong’s observation.

“But it does not have any malice attached to it,” Hongjoong admits with difficulty, sceptical despite how the revelation makes him feel like he’s not drowning in a river anymore and can finally swim up.

“Then why would anyone send me this?” Seonghwa questions.

Hongjoong runs a palm over his face again. Yunho senses the tension.

“It’s almost like there wasn’t any particular intention behind the act at all, it’s confusing,” Yunho states.

“We’ll just keep an extra eye on you then, hyung,” Jongho insists, “Better to be safe than sorry.”

Hongjoong is about to protest when Yeosang gives him a slow blink promising a conversation with the vampire before he leaves the cafe today. 

“Jongho is right. There’s no point in scratching our heads over it when we have no real proof that someone meant to harm Seonghwa hyung.”

Yunho’s expression and his words are like a fork in a highway, like parallel lines that never met. Hongjoong feels antsy just thinking about the conversation that will follow.

“Hyung, I’ll take up some shifts here until we know it’s completely safe,” Jongho offers, later when they have arranged the furniture and a stream of customers have started pouring in, keeping Seonghwa busy and his mind away from potential threats. Jongho’s sharp eyes convey a different story along the lines of an assurance of a chokehold if he doesn’t agree.

Hongjoong nods because he doesn’t think he’ll win a fight against the youngest, not when his intentions are so pure and untainted.

It’s around noon when Yeosang settles down on the chair opposite him, Jongho excitedly bouncing behind the counter and following Seonghwa and Yunho around like a puppy, metaphorical tail wagging.

“It’s not just the bouquet,” he says, voice hollow as he eyes Hongjoong’s fingers which twist amongst themselves.

“I figured.”

“Has anything been happening at home, hyung?” The honorific is uttered in a heartfelt manner, Yeosang had gotten used to calling him that despite being significantly older because their first job together had been based on an assumption on Hongjoong’s part that the other was a human and not a creature of the night.

There’s more behind the story but today isn’t when he’ll go down that particular memory lane.

“Not really,” Hongjoong replies, willing his fingers to stop giving his anxiety away.

They don’t listen.

“Then?” Yeosang prompts, the sunlight streaming through the window falling on his face at an angle which gives away his non-glamoured, deep crimson-black eyes like blood poured over coal.

“It’s just this gut feeling, nothing like the feeling I usually have. It feels ominous.”

Yeosang hums.

“Birds have been falling to their deaths,” Yeosang starts and Hongjoong can hear the grief behind the words, his lips pursing after the confession.

_ Mourning. _

Yeosang is mourning the death of his companions.

“Where?”

Yeosang drags his gaze away from where it had settled on Seonghwa for a moment.

“Here. Around your shop. Wooyoung and San’s apartment. Our condo. Yunho and Mingi’s place.”

Hongjoong sags in his seat, feeling betrayed that his magic hadn’t given him even the mildest form of warning.

“I didn’t… how didn’t I notice?”

A steely laugh escapes Yeosang sounding like razor blades are being strewn around.

“It’s just some birds, not enough to gain the attention of anyone. But that is worrying too. None of the magic users has been able to feel anything wrong. At the least, Yunho should have noticed but to him too, it’s a gut feeling like you said. Your magic isn’t warning you, neither is Jongho’s or anyone else’s.”

There’s the sound of a crash of something like a milk carton hitting the linoleum floor, Hongjoong is not sure, as Jongho spills something that Hongjoong can’t see behind the counter. Seonghwa calls for Yeosang to pull the young warlock away so that he can clean the area, tiny sunlit laughs escaping his mouth as he scolds and comforts Jongho alternately in true Seonghwa behaviour.

The vampire directs a slow smile at Seonghwa and looks down at Hongjoong as he gets up, placing a hand on top of Hongjoong’s clasped hands in the middle of the table.

“Keep a very close eye on him. I’ll inform the others too. Don’t tell him now. You know it will do more harm than good,” Yeosang says succinctly before he goes and playfully tackles Jongho, manhandling the youngest with his vampire strength and pulling him away from the counter, whispering something to him, the youngest sending him a concerned glance.

_ Don’t tell him now. It will do more harm than good. _

Yeosang’s words echo in his ears telling him that if Seonghwa knew, it would make it easier for the ones pulling the strings. Black magic has always had a habit of catching on to fear and vulnerabilities like a shark to freshly spilled blood. 

Hongjoong would rather die than let that happen.

A minute later, Jongho is occupying the seat across from him but Hongjoong is in a distant land, the perfect castle in his head cracking from the foundation, the sky turning a murky black grey.

Seonghwa smiles at him from the counter mouthing _ I love you _ like a light at the end of an abyss, the ember of a warding ceremony, a guide in the darkness.

Hongjoong chokes down tears as he mouths it back hoping to all hope that he isn’t a reason when Seonghwa will get inevitably hurt, the realist in him not believing that he won’t ever be in pain as long as he is with Hongjoong.

_ I’m sorry _, he thinks, because he can’t let Seonghwa go, because he’s a selfish man and he wants him, needs him in fact, like the moon needs the sun because he is but a reflection of him.

And because he hasn’t known much beyond him, hasn’t felt the need to, not with Seonghwa by his side.

Out here in this microcosm bustling with life and energy, occupied with more than half of the people he loved in this world, their heartbeats on loop in his ears, Hongjoong feels the odd ball of anxiety and fear quell and flare alternately even as uncertainty looms over them like a church bell that precariously hangs in a tower, ready to break down taking the ceiling along with it.

***

Out of sight. Out of mind.

Easier said than done, Hongjoong thinks.

Seonghwa is eating ice cream, the sickly sweet tang of strawberry and the potent bitterness of dark chocolate meeting in the middle and permeating the air as the man on the TV, a priest in fact, mumbles biblical verses with increasing intensity and sonority. Hongjoong lies with his head tucked into the juncture of Seonghwa’s skin where his shoulder and neck meets, adjusting when Seonghwa leans forward in anticipation, face tilting a little to look at the screen before he looks up at his boyfriend again who is completely concentrated on the show.

The appearance of the dark figure on the ceiling in the show is what triggers the fear again. Hongjoong tenses up, Seonghwa pulling his gaze away from the screen to give him a worried look.

Hongjoong shakes his head against him, mumbling an _ I’m okay _ to his neck, pressing a kiss for good measure because he doesn’t think he can handle questions tonight.

Seonghwa stares at him for a long moment but Hongjoong stays still, willing his breathing to stabilize from where it had slightly picked up.

He must deem him fine because he shoves another spoonful of icecream into his mouth, tongue swiping out to lick his lips looking at Hongjoong before he bites his lips.

Desire pools at the bottom of Hongjoong’s gut. It’s an inconvenient moment to get turned on because his mind is still flashing back to begonias and dead birds but Seonghwa’s gaze is like blazing fire, not the burning kind, but the kind that warms you from the inside and makes you lose your goddamn mind.

Seonghwa reaches for his hand and loops their fingers together, thumb stroking the skin over the jutting joint of his knuckles. 

Hongjoong cranes his neck a little and presses his lips to the curve of his jaw, Seonghwa looking at him as if confirming if he’s up to this now.

The honeymoon phase they’d had was long gone, heated kisses against the door, a quickie in the kitchen, Seonghwa on his knees at the shop, all rushed and fast, yet vivid and clear in his memory before they fell into a rhythm of reaching out when touching the other wasn’t a mere saving of a moment into a frame, not a desperate attempt to keep the other close anymore. 

Now, sex wasn’t the only way they’d feel as close to the other as they needed to feel, now the physical connection augmented and strengthened the emotional bond, when love would curl with desire, with lust and passion, and show in the way kisses would last longer, when less air was needed to kiss the other into euphoric limpness, when they’re comfortable with taking their time with the other as Seonghwa slowly fucked into him like he had all the time in the world, when Hongjoong would lick and tease Seonghwa like eternity would stop for them.

Time was the only thing they needed.

They had it in plenty but making love to each other took time, more time than they used to take before. They didn’t want it to turn into just quickies which they’d indulge the other in if the desire was unavoidable and coiled like a serpent in the pit of their stomach but more often than not, they waited for time or when desperate enough, found the time for it.

“We have time,” Seonghwa whispers as he leaves open-mouthed kisses against Hongjoong’s neck and jawline, stealing the words right out of his mouth. 

Hongjoong is about to get up from the couch when Seonghwa stops him with a hand, his other hand reaching for the remote and switching off the TV. Hongjoong looks up at him with barely hidden confusion but finally comprehends what Seonghwa is going for when the other man leans down to kiss him, this time rushed and passionate, lifting him into his arms, Hongjoong’s ankles linking at his back as he kisses back with equal fervour, mind whispering a litany of warmth and Seonghwa in tandem.

Seonghwa carries him to their bedroom, steps assured and calculated, none of the fumbling from the beginning of their relationship which Hongjoong misses a little but he can’t help find the concentration visible on Seonghwa’s face hot, his undivided attention all on him unlike when he’d look around as if someone’s watching them or when he’d get super shy and turn the lights off to recover.

Seonghwa lays him down on the mattress, climbing over him, knees fixed on either side of his hips, smiling calmly even as his eyes spell a swirling maelstrom of passion, skin running hotter in direct proportion with his desire. He pulls his threadbare sweater off, revealing smooth and unblemished skin except for the one mark, the only rune, visible only to Hongjoong and him in the space between his ribs and his hipbone. 

“You have an obsession with that rune,” Seonghwa drawls, voice husky like it generally tended to be when he was turned on, as he lets Hongjoong’s fingers dance over the lines of the Ogham tree.

“I do,” Hongjoong agrees, pulling Seonghwa down to brush his lips across the other, Seonghwa’s words taken right from his mouth, “Only we can see it. It’s special.”

_ You’re special. _

His magic had told him he’s the one since the day they met but when Hongjoong had confirmed it, his heart nodding along to the lyre that is Seonghwa’s breaths, the muffled thumps that is his heartbeat, followed by an uneventful confession from Seonghwa, this had been the first thing Hongjoong had gifted Seonghwa.

A tree with its leaves. Not a graphic illustration that covered his torso but a two-inch long line which stood for the trunk of the tree and measured leaf-like thin lines which stood for the leaves.

A magical rune to mark him as his love. To keep him from harm.

Not everything, there wasn’t anything, not a rune or a symbol that could do that, not when Seonghwa’s body was flesh and sinew and unreachable by the magical impulses which ran through his own body.

Seonghwa kisses him, hard and fast, pulling away with a question Hongjoong answers with an aimed throw of his t-shirt to the floor.

“I have to clean..” Seonghwa starts, Hongjoong pulls him into a kiss with both hands settled on either side of his neck, licking into the heat of his mouth.

“Not fair,” Seonghwa mumbles against his lips.

“What’s not fair,” Hongjoong kisses his cheek, “is you,” his other cheek, “focusing on,” his forehead, “anything other than me,” his chin, “including cleaning,” his nose.

Seonghwa scrunches up his nose, distractedly glancing at the t-shirt on the floor before he says _ fuck it _ and kisses down Hongjoong’s torso, tongue swirling around his nipples, a low gasp escaping Hongjoong’s mouth, making Seonghwa laugh against his neck as he takes small folds of skin under his teeth and sucks bruises that Hongjoong knows will take at least a week to fade.

Hongjoong pulls him up, manoeuvring his neck to catch his lips in another kiss before he bites Seonghwa’s ear and blows a puff of hot air into them. Seonghwa pins his arms to the headboard in retaliation and smiles at him before he lets go as if he decides that tonight is not going to be one of _ those _ nights, not with how playful they were being.

Seonghwa drags his fingers down to the waistband of his sweatpants and mouths at the edge, Hongjoong whining at the teasing. 

“Seonghwa, please get a move on and fuck me,” Hongjoong begs when he feels his cock grow rock hard with no release in sight.

Seonghwa gives him a smouldering look and drags his boxers and sweatpants down in one go, staring at Hongjoong in all his naked glory.

Hongjoong’s head tips backwards with a gasp as he teases his cock with the graze of his tongue. He takes it into his mouth, suckling softly, and then with lighter, more focused, pressure. Hongjoong’s grip on Seonghwa tightens, the noise he makes rising in pitch and desperation as Seonghwa lets his tongue flatten against the base of his shaft. He’s prepared for that though, pinning Hongjoong’s hips down as they lift off the bed and spasms.

Hongjoong pulls on his hair when the sensations get too much, his orgasm building as Seonghwa hums contently with his dick in his mouth making Hongjoong feel like he’s going to have an aneurysm any moment.

Thankfully, he pulls off before he cums, a lewd smirk on his face as he kisses Hongjoong, the bitter taste of his own precum on Seonghwa’s tongue.

Seonghwa lifts himself off of Hongjoong, stripping himself of his pants and boxers as well, his lean but defined body coming into full view. He rolls to the side of the bed, opening the drawer and grabbing the cherry flavoured lube and a condom.

“May I?” Seonghwa asks, his voice making him sound like he’s an anachronism, a knight who has travelled to the future straight from the pages of a medieval chivalric romance, polite and well-mannered.

But then he leans down and sucks bruises into the skin of Hongjoong’s thighs making him grind into thin air and Hongjoong halts his thought process which had looped Seonghwa and chivalry and manners in the same sentence. Seonghwa presses his hips down and mouths patience on the skin above his hip bone.

Hongjoong sighs, a defeated sound.

A moment later, Seonghwa starts circling his index finger around Hongjoong’s puckered hole, the sudden touch making his hips stutter.

“You haven’t answered yet,” Seonghwa kisses his thigh, and whispers, “May I?”

“Seonghwa, please,” Hongjoong pleads, lying back only when the sound of the lube bottle opening enters his ears. 

He opens his eyes as Seonghwa warms the lube up between his fingers and presses a finger inside, his hole protesting against the intrusion before he lets out a deep breath and relaxes. He knows that this particular part always takes time. Seonghwa has always had to fight for every inch his body gives but he’s never complained, never said that this is too much of a pain so when he presses inside and curls his finger, Hongjoong doesn’t muffle his moan and lets it out freely, a reward for being so patient with him, then and now.

Seonghwa twists his finger around, crooking it after a few minutes as he pushes it in and out, Hongjoong relaxing the more he does, pleasure overtaking the feeling of intrusion.

“More,” he whimpers.

Seonghwa nods, squirting some more lube onto his fingers and warms it up, climbing up to kiss Hongjoong, sucking on his tongue and making him forget all sense as he pushes in both fingers together, distracting him with his lips. Hongjoong tenses before he relaxes, sharply gasping into Seonghwa’s mouth. The other man doesn’t move his fingers until Hongjoong kisses him and nods, eyes watery from the slight sting.

He moves his fingers, scissoring them when Hongjoong relaxes more, making the movement possible. A good few minutes pass before Hongjoong moans again, neck bared and face pressed to the pillow, Seonghwa kissing his neck and breathing into his ear.

“Good?” Seonghwa enquires when Hongjoong lets out a loud moan as the other’s fingers find the spot which makes him see stars.

“It’s so good,” Hongjoong gasps as Seonghwa pumps his fingers in and out of his hole.

“You look so wrecked, Joong,” Seonghwa breathes into his ears, “You’re so beautiful.”

Hongjoong keens loudly at the praise, tapping his fingers on Seonghwa’s wrist to add a third finger.

Seonghwa shakes his head.

“I want another one, Hwa,” he knows he’s pouting but he also knows he can take it, he wants it to sting a little, really feel Seonghwa when he pushes in.

Seonghwa nods hesitantly but pushes a third finger in anyway. It’s a tight fit but within minutes, Hongjoong is gasping with the building orgasm and places a hand flat on Seonghwa’s naked skin. 

The look he gives him must say it all because Seonghwa pulls out, his hole contracting around nothing as the other tears the condom wrapper and puts it on, slathering lube all over his hard cock, Hongjoong hands helping him, making him let out a husky moan.

When he pushes in, Hongjoong’s eyes screw shut before he opens them to see Seonghwa looking utterly ruined after just fingering Hongjoong, his lips bitten raw and red, sweat making his hair cling to his forehead. 

It’s a slow kind of motion and Hongjoong feels every inch of Seonghwa’s cock drag into the ring of muscle. Seonghwa slumps over him when he finally bottoms out. Hongjoong fists his hands on the covers and takes a few deep breaths before leaning up and into Seonghwa to press a kiss against his neck and then his lips.

Seonghwa pulls out slowly and pushes back in. _ Hard. _

Hongjoong sees stars with the pleasure that spikes at the single movement.

Each thrust makes the bed frame rattle, Seonghwa never taking his lips off of Hongjoong’s skin, his lips mapping kisses over his face and his lips as if he can’t focus on just fucking into Hongjoong. Hongjoong spreads his legs wider, Seonghwa taking the hint and hiking his leg over his shoulder, the angle making his cock hit the sweet spot over and over, Hongjoong’s mouth falling into the shape of an O at the pleasure, sweet and saccharine and heated, Seonghwa moaning against him, their breaths and whimpers a harmony all on their own.

When they finally cum, it happens together, two supernovas exploding, white painting Hongjoong’s stomach, the other’s name on their lips. Seonghwa thrusts twice more before he pulls out slowly, pulling the condom off and tying it, stretching his arm behind him to put it on the ground.

Hongjoong climbs over him, leaning down to kiss him breathless, the high from the orgasm making every little touch burn, sensitive and hot. He licks a bold stripe on his neck, biting and licking to mark him, Seonghwa giggling even in the post orgasmic haze, fucked out and eyes half-lidded.

Maybe it’s how soft his face looks as he smiles with his eyes closed, one hand grabbing onto Hongjoong’s wrist even as he is half-conscious but Hongjoong’s magic spreads from his fingers and envelops them, their naked tangle of limbs and torso surrounded by golden vine-like strands.

Hongjoong places his hands on either side of Seonghwa’s head, leaning down so that their foreheads meet, a small act of reassurance, a whisper at the tip of his tongue that Seonghwa surges up to take into his own mouth, and Hongjoong has to remind himself over and over again, like a vinyl stuck in a player that the song which he’ll never get past is Seonghwa with his brown-black eyes, hair the shade of the darkest nights and smile like the longest day of the year, seemingly eternal and endless.

It’s hard to believe that Seonghwa is here right now, with him, it is always difficult to to make himself trust when he gets like this, that Seonghwa is not a fragment from a reverie, not an image crafted with an odd mixture of some of the blurriest and sharpest memories, but actually here, in the flesh, with a pounding heart, slow smile and kind eyes.

Seonghwa’s hands tremble as they touch the skin over his chest, feather-light and delicate, and if he didn’t know better he wouldn’t know he was touching at all.

It’s instinct, a habit that has stuck itself to every curvature of his world that makes him place his hands on the sharp line of Seonghwa’s jaw, velvety smooth skin sending chills down his spine just from a single touch. He leans down and kisses his love, properly this time, no fear, no lust, nothing desperate about it, just a whole lot of love, unadulterated and pure.

A prayer, an answer, and then, everything and nothing all at once.

***

Yunho flips the card in his fingers, shifting in his seat as Hongjoong glares a hole in the wall behind the druid.

“It’s a magician card.”

Hongjoong huffs at the plain statement.

“Aren’t you the smartest?” He quips.

Yunho frowns.

“What do you want me to say, hyung?” he raises his voice, Jongho stilling behind the table, the container in his hand shaking as he tried to keep himself under control.

“Anything,” Hongjoong says, “but that.”

Yunho sighs in exasperation.

“There’s nothing,” he waves the card in the air, “on this thing. No hidden sigils, no signs, no black magic, nothing.”

“There must be some reason why I found a stack of just magician cards from tarot decks right on my doorstep, Yunho-yah. I wouldn’t ask you if I already knew.”

The look on the younger’s face softens.

“Hyung, you’ve been going mad looking for hints of anyone with malignant intentions towards Seonghwa hyung and I know you’re desperate. I get it,” he states, like he’s reading off of a script, exhausted, “but there’s no evidence. Nothing beyond random bouquet or dying birds or cards which make no sense. If someone really did mean harm, wouldn’t it show?”

Yunho is right but that’s another thing. Yunho has always been too sceptical about his human side, he would cross over his instincts a thousand times if the druid in him didn’t affirm his suspicions so really, Hongjoong is asking the wrong questions.

He leans forward with intent.

“Tell me one thing. What’s your instinct telling you? Not your magic, not the elements, not the rowan tree, what’s your gut telling you?”

Yunho lets out a defeated sigh.

“That something is looming right over his head, that time is ticking.”

Hongjoong nods in understanding.

“That’s all I needed to know,” he says, getting up from the chair.

He’s walking to the potion counter when Yunho calls his name.

“I’m sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong turns around, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Tell Eden hyung that you aren’t going to be his mouthpiece and that if he wants to say anything to me, he will do that to me and not you.”

Yunho turns shocked eyes towards him.

“Hyung, how did you..?” He leaves the question hanging.

Jongho answers for him, his head poking around the corner of the open drawer.

“First of all, you’re an idiot,” he pauses for effect, “Second of all, you’ve been haranguing him with cases of black magic every other day since the bouquet thing happened and suddenly, Mingi hyung gets hurt on a patrol by a good witch and you’re denying the fact that something is fishy here when you’ve been drawing wards on every possible surface of the cafe when you think no one’s looking.”

Jongho walks around the table to look Yunho in the eye, “Hongjoong hyung knew that the Council was pulling rank on you because he hasn’t been taking many cases. Clearly that didn’t work. They played dirty with Mingi hyung and you’re torn between loyalties and you thought hiding would work,” he shrugs his shoulders, and leans down to poke him on his nose, “which brings me to my first point, you’re an idiot,” Yunho whimpers and laughs in the same breath, and Jongho drawls, “and we’re not. Simple.”

A sincere laugh catches in his throat as he watches the interaction and he doesn’t suppress it, letting himself laugh out loud, the duo joining him.

Yunho leaves with a promise to look more into the magician card and Hongjoong lets him go with a promise to deal with the Council, pushing it to the back of his mind when Yujin calls with an urgent job.

In the evening, afternoon giving way to the palette of blues and greys, Hongjoong looks at the ceiling, invisible wards and runes whispering safety and protection to him, the job from the day relatively easy but replaying behind his eyelids, a young warlock and a spell gone wrong, nothing big. Jongho is snoozing at the counter in the shop, drool gathering on the wooden desk making Hongjoong wonder if Jongho had had someone when he presented first too. He walks towards him, fingers carding through his soft hair, the younger nuzzling closer.

The stack of magician cards next to Jongho’s face is reversed from this angle. 

He pats the younger’s head one last time and climbs the stairs to sit in front of the door to his home, the one he shares with Seonghwa, doubt creeping in with regard to the tarot card before he arrives at a conclusion.

San picks up on the first ring.

“Hyung?” He calls.

“It was reversed,” he utters.

San makes a sound of confusion as if he’s not able to tie the story together just yet.

“I don’t understand,” he says, something like glass breaking and some random noises streaming from the other end of the line. 

“The magician card stack was reversed when I opened the door.”

San gasps as if in realization before he asks Hongjoong to hold on for a second.

When he speaks next, his tone is solemn, “The magician card generally stands for the number 1 in standard tarot decks we use. I thought maybe the person who put it there meant to say that it would be affecting one person.” 

That’s what Hongjoong had figured from his limited tarot card knowledge too.

“When given to a magic user, it means,” he can hear San’s fingers flipping through the pages of a book, “good luck and strength but the reversed magician card,” pages flip again, “it means ill intentions, sometimes towards the magic user, sometimes the people around them.”

“Like a warning,” Hongjoong says, “a taunt.”

“Yeah,” San agrees, “It also means that talent or power is abused in some way.”

“None of this sounds good, hyung,” fear crinkles the edges of San’s soft voice.

“I know. I’ll call you later, okay?” 

“Promise you’ll call?” San’s tinny phone voice fumbles, dropping to a whisper.

Hongjoong lets out a soft laugh, a tiny part of him regretting making everyone around him worry.

“I will. I guess I have to get started on an upgraded version of that charm I made for Seonghwa,” he jokes, the crackle of the connection answering him until San whispers about a new crystal Wooyoung had found from the Yanghwa lake bed which was said to have the power to make protective spells stronger.

“I’ll bring it along when we come over on Saturday,” San says, voice suddenly bright as if having a plan is reassuring.

Hongjoong can’t help but agree.

***

Hongjoong blinks his eyes open to see Seonghwa peering down at him with a soft look on his face, one hand on his cheek as he presumably patted him awake.

“Let’s go to bed,” Seonghwa says after leaning down to peck Hongjoong on the lips. When Hongjoong leans in to press a proper kiss against his lips, Seonghwa backs away, stumbling on his heels to their room. 

“Seonghwa,” he calls, dread drowning his senses.

His magic feels weirdly unsettled, something making it boil enough for Hongjoong to revert to alertness. 

When Hongjoong enters the room, head spinning a little from sprinting seconds after being pulled from sleep, Seonghwa is standing with one hand clutching his chest in a grip that looks desperate, another settled on the table adjacent to him. 

Seonghwa’s head snaps up, his brow furrowed, exasperation shining in his big, dark eyes, pain putting things in a clear display.

Hongjoong freezes at the door, unable to respond, his magic screaming in his being to just _ fucking _move and get to Seonghwa but his strength is moribund. The labyrinth of worries finally locks him in and it’s like moratorium has been declared in his world. 

Whatever this is, despite all the lies denial tries to feed him, Hongjoong’s gaze locks in on Seonghwa and tells him, objectively, that something terrible has caught hold of his boyfriend, his one and only love, and it’s all because of him.

Subjectively, it yells at him to run to Seonghwa and take him to Eden, to beg the elder mage to protect him.

Hongjoong had known that things had been going well, _ too _ well but as the last chandelier swings from the ceiling, forcing him to watch as each wire snaps one by one, he thinks that even if he knew that all the worry was for this, he couldn’t have possibly stopped it.

People who loved Hongjoong had never been receivers of the best fate. He feels tears rolling down his cheek as Seonghwa opens his eyes which had moments ago been screwed shut with pain and tries to smile at him.

“Joong,” Seonghwa calls, voice cracking, understanding that Hongjoong has figured out something that has sealed his fate, “Something’s wrong.”

The air around them freezes and Hongjoong closes his eyes, memory playing the reel of an incident two months ago when he’d been clutching Seonghwa to him in front of a club and felt the overwhelming surge of fear and pain deep within the confines of his heart and his mind, as if both logic and emotion had been attempting to warn him, his own voice uttering the same words coloured with the same fright.

If only he’d listened.

_ If only. _

When Hongjoong would finally die, he’d be buried under hefty if onlys which have caused him nothing but loss.

But he is certain that survival is impossible for him without Seonghwa. He needs his light like he needs air to breathe, like the certainty that the blades he carries give him. It’s almost symbiotic in a strange way but Hongjoong is done overthinking. All he knows is that he needs Seonghwa.

Seonghwa’s face is painted with fear, a coughing bout catching him by his throat. Hongjoong follows him into the bathroom this time, the older turning wide, frantic eyes at him before he faces away. Hongjoong feels something break in his chest as he turns Seonghwa back around to face him, grabbing his hands softly, pulling his fingers apart to see red resting there, dripping on the tiles.

The prayers, he thinks, the desperate, terrified prayers were in vain. He realizes for the umpteenth time that ifs and maybes never help any of them. 

Hope is pleasant, he tells himself, but unrealistic and false ones which do nothing except make him feel like the magic carpet under his feet is being unforgivingly ripped away when he realizes their deceptive existence are better ignored, better shoved to the charcoal-shaded corners of his worn-down heart.

Hongjoong inhales and lets the uncertainty tumble down the drain, the water seeping into the small holes in the basin reminding him of the days which has brought a series of events, the days which has led up to this, inevitably mapping the way every thread of the precious bond he shares with Seonghwa will break, one by one, agonizingly slow one moment and windingly fast the other.

It’s like being pushed off a precipitous cliff only to freefall and feel his bones shatter as the cold water floods his mouth and ears.

At least the unbearable fire in his chest lulls for a second.

Then it’s back to burning, a huge conflagration in the limited confines of his chest cavity capable of destroying all that he believes in, all that he loves.

Seonghwa coughs again, crimson colouring the ivory ceramic before being washed away by the swirling water.

Hongjoong gathers his love, his Seonghwa in his arms and sobs silently, a refrain of apologies spilling out. Seonghwa’s body trembles in his hold, his boyfriend quiet, no reassurance at his lips like he usually did, not this time.

Like he knows he’s doomed.

_ Like he has known it for a while. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys really think that I wrote 5k of Hongjoong panicking in the first chapter for things to turn out to be rainbows and unicorns?? Hell naaah, things are obviously fucked up.
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this. I love feedback!! Have a great day or night, wherever you are!!
> 
> In other news, VOTE FOR ATEEZ ON THE MAMA WEBSITE, LET'S GIVE THEM AN AWARD!!
> 
> PS: It's my first time writing smut so please go easy on me.
> 
> Come yell at me on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/wooyoungisthesun)!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this comes super late but I am done with this fic and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Also guys, 22k chapter. (Sweats)

There’s a pile of books spread on his table, not one the same, a variety of compendiums, journals and manuals, all related to curses and hexes that he’s collected over the years. Some are bound with powerful spells cast by sorcerers from even beyond the seas, books Hongjoong definitely shouldn’t be looking at but considering the situation he’s in, he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t afford to _ not _ look through them, can’t give himself the luxury of an option to whether or not put his life in jeopardy, not when his love is stuck between two worlds.

Hongjoong nearly throws the tome on fae magic that he’s been reading, finding nothing of particular use and feels his gaze being drawn to the green volume, the triangle-shaped edge of the cover visible under the heap of magical paraphernalia like a silent call. His hand reaches for the emerald green volume, padlocked with blessed chains and beige and deep brown harnesses, the font on the cover hidden behind the tangle of belts and chains.

He feels his vision go fuzzy at the edges as he pulls the book from the heap, two books toppling to the ground, landing with big, simultaneous _ thumps_.

Hongjoong’s magic curls into a ball, cowering in fear while trying to protest against the unnatural pull.

He thumbs one of the three padlocks on it, chanting the first words of a quick-release spell. Suddenly, there’s a hand in front of him and the hefty book is taken away, Hongjoong’s vision clearing in seconds.

When he looks up, Jongho twists his hand in the air, the book disappearing into thin air. 

Hongjoong knows that San will find the book in the glass case in his cellar today.

“You’re an idiot.”

Hongjoong sighs but doesn’t reply. Jongho raises an eyebrow and it’s brimming with judgement but he can’t deal with it, not today, in fact, not until he can rest easy after Seonghwa’s safety is assured.

“So very mature of you to ignore all my, no, all _ our _ calls and lock yourself in your shop,” Jongho says, anger simmering in his voice.

“I have things to do,” Hongjoong replies and it’s the least creative way to answer him but _ fuck that _.

Fuck all those vain things which didn’t mean _ anything _ in the face of overwhelming, unstoppable danger.

“Do you?” Jongho laughs and it’s devoid of all humour. 

“Oh, I bet ignoring your best friends takes a lot of energy. Not to mention that your blatant disappearance act with the love of your life must be exhausting too. I’m sorry I didn’t notice,” his apology isn’t meant to be one but there’s a sea of pain veiled under it nonetheless.

Hongjoong stares at Jongho’s oddly glistening eyes.

“He could be dying,” Jongho says, softly when Hongjoong doesn’t respond.

“He already is,” Hongjoong whispers, his voice cracking.

Jongho slams his palms on the table, wood trembling under the force, the vibration travelling up Hongjoong’s body through his elbows placed on the table. 

“No, you don’t get to say that! I don’t care if we’re fighting against the entire fucking world. You don’t get to say that and sit in here, reading through books you shouldn’t when you should be in there,” Jongho’s finger points upstairs, voice softer, “with Seonghwa hyung, telling him it’ll be alright.”

Hongjoong has cried enough in the past three days than he ever did in his complete disaster of a life, through all the losses he’d had but even then, the moment he hears Seonghwa’s name, he cracks like a glass that’s been thrown violently against the wall, like any man would if he realized that he’s the reason why people around him kept getting hurt, eyes stinging in a way that’s become familiar.

“Hyung,” Jongho kneels in front of him, turning his chair to make him face him, “he’s worried and he’s in pain.”

Pain.

Seonghwa was in _ pain _.

“What happened?”

Hongjoong’s hands find themselves desperately clutching Jongho’s wrist in a grip he is certain is painful.

“He coughed up blood again. He says it’s fine but he keeps wincing when he thinks we don’t see.”

Hongjoong doesn’t understand why the universe keeps playing this game with him as if it was physically incapable of giving him the smallest of breaks free from danger and terrible intentions.

A lot of people had been hurt by him.

All because they loved him enough to never let him go.

Hongjoong had hoped, he had _ hoped _ and _ prayed _ for Seonghwa to not become one name in a list that never seemed to end but it seemed like all his prayers were in vain because the man he loves is cursed, and Hongjoong, one of the three mages in their entire generation, with pure magic coursing through his veins, nearly invincible due to his capabilities, hadn’t even realized.

He felt so incredibly _ stupid _.

Three days ago, when Seonghwa had run away from him, his hands clutching his chest and an apologetic look on his face as if he’d wronged Hongjoong somehow by getting cursed, he’d called Yunho, informing him of the situation.

He had held Seonghwa to his chest, his magic and himself wrapping around his love, clinging desperately tight to him. He had whispered reassurances and gibberish in an even and calm tone, tears soaking Seonghwa’s t-shirt and his nape.

“Do you trust me, Seonghwa?”

Seonghwa had answered without missing a beat, “With everything I have, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong had made up his mind as he bound Seonghwa to him without seeking his explicit permission. Binding their souls to each other only meant that if Seonghwa were to be hurt again by the force he was attacked, he’d know.

But it was better than nothing.

When Yunho and Mingi arrived, panic on their faces, their linked hands suspended in the space between them, Hongjoong had taken them aside, Seonghwa asleep in their bed, a request to keep the elder safe, as safe as they possibly could as he went to meet Eden.

Eden had promised he’d ask around and let him know with a solemn look.

“Hongjoong, it’s not your fault,” he had said, eyes calm like the eye of a storm, his one hand clipped on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“I thought that if I heard you say it enough, I will come to believe it, hyung,” Hongjoong had turned around, “But nothing is ever enough to make me believe in it. And this time, this is on me, all on just me.”

Before Eden could muster up a response, Hongjoong had exited with a soft slam of the door.

Hongjoong holed himself in the shop, running on coffee and pure desperation. He checked on Seonghwa every two hours, his magic piercing the layer of concrete and the empty space which separated the both of them. He’d warded the shop up, switched his phone off and refused to answer when his friends would cuss at him to get him to open up.

Seonghwa didn’t come, Yunho keeping his promise of not letting Seonghwa out of the apartment, not even to step out into the staircase outside which would lead him downstairs, just a mere twenty-three steps between them.

The night before, he had heard Seonghwa, around two, as Hongjoong pulled at his hair in frustration, the pile of books in front of him seeming so terribly useless, making him wonder why he’d ever thought he’d find anything salvageable in them to keep off the evil a little longer until Eden came up with a proper solution.

Seonghwa had called out his name and Hongjoong felt his magic spike, yearning for his presence.

“I know what you’re doing and I know what you’re thinking. I know you’re desperate but I need you to know I love you. Don’t forget that.”

Hongjoong didn’t respond, breaking down into tears, several pages of the _ Ultimate Defence Methods Against Forces of the Dark _, soaked, ink smudged.

Seonghwa sounded like he had come to terms with his fate.

Like, he was waiting for death to come and clutch him tight by the neck and drag him away from Hongjoong.

Hongjoong couldn’t, he _ wouldn’t _ let that happen.

He had saved Eden and Yujin.

He would save Seonghwa too.

“I heard him tell Wooyoung hyung that he misses you. Do you know how fucked up that is, hyung? You’re right next to him but you won’t let him be comforted even by your presence. Do you know how much it would hurt if you were cursed and you had no idea if you’d live to see another day,” Jongho chokes on his breath, voice cracking pathetically, “do you know how much it would hurt to know that your true love was too busy playing a coward detective to even grace you with their presence?”

Hongjoong gets up from the chair, knocked over by Jongho’s words, the younger openly crying in front of him. Hongjoong sways, light-headed, not crumbling to the ground only because of the warlock’s quick reflexes.

Jongho puts his arms around him in an embrace, like he’s attempting to aid Hongjoong to hold himself together and to help him regain the balance of both his feet and his mental state.

“When I first met you, I thought you were the bravest person in the world. The more I got to know you, the more I thought that of you,” there’s years of admiration, of hero-worship which quickly turned to genuine fondness, in Jongho’s bright eyes. “I came here,” Jongho pauses and Hongjoong knows it’s a confession, “I came here to learn your ways so that I could get revenge for my brother but you taught me that revenge was overrated. That the only way I could pay my respect to him and show him how much I love him was by doing the same thing he did. By protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. I thought I didn’t deserve to be angry at the world because even though you had lost so much, you didn’t take that on the world. I know you told me that I should decide how to live my life but I saw how you lived yours and I wanted that, hyung. I saw you be brave in the face of everything life threw at you and I wanted that. You… you are the bravest person I’ve met, hyung. So please, don’t run away. Don’t be a coward now.”

Hongjoong sobs in the circle of the young warlock’s arms, breaking down as the younger stands like a pillar so that he can gather himself.

“Thank you,” he whispers, Jongho’s smile pressing against the thin material of his shirt covering his shoulder.

Hongjoong pats him on the back and takes a step away.

“I’m sorry I disappointed you.”

Jongho shakes his head.

“Tell that to him, not me.”

Hongjoong will.

But hopelessness kicks in again, opening its wide jaws and clamping right where Hongjoong and Seonghwa end and begin.

“I don’t know what to do, Jongho. I’ve looked through everything I’ve got here,” Hongjoong gestures at the heaps of books occupying the floor and the tables in his shop.

“But I can’t find anything,” he says, resigned.

“We’ll keep looking then.” 

Hongjoong hears it then. Jongho hasn’t lost hope yet.

How dare Hongjoong lose hope when the people around him still trusted in him to help Seonghwa, when they still had enough faith in him to hope for a miracle?

“He’ll be back on Friday. He said he’d bring help.”

Hongjoong doesn’t need to ask for clarification because there’s only one person who would have enough mental fortitude to leave them for five days and travel to another part of the country to look for help.

Yeosang had his ways and with all hope at the verge of getting snuffed out like a dying fire, Hongjoong knows he can’t afford to lose it.

All they needed was something to buy some time so that they could get to the root of the curse and obliterate it, then and there.

Hongjoong stares at Jongho for a second before he nods.

“You need to work on your wards, hyung,” Jongho laughs, trying to make the mood lighter.

“No, I don’t. You just knew the counterspell because I gave it to you.”

Jongho pouts and Hongjoong feels his heart ache with fondness, reminding him of the others.

“Are San and Wooyoung still here?”

Hongjoong hadn’t called the younger warlocks because he wanted someone who wouldn’t panic at the confirmation of a curse on Seonghwa. He had already been panicking enough and if San or Wooyoung hyperventilated over the phone with no one around to calm them down, Hongjoong wouldn’t have forgiven himself, given their conditions which made it easier to take advantage of them.

Jongho winces at the question.

“They’ve been here since Saturday,” Hongjoong nods. It was hard to miss the yelling anyway, “They haven't gone home yet.”

“Who told them?”

“Yeosang hyung went to get them actually. He didn’t tell them what was wrong,” Jongho halts as if attempting to find the best way to voice his thoughts before he gives up, “they were a mess, hyung.”

Hongjoong nods. He had expected it but the way Jongho's eyebrows knit together, he knows it must have been bad.

Hongjoong would apologize to them but he doesn’t regret not being the one who told them first.

He owed Yeosang a great deal for taking that upon his shoulders.

“I think you’ve stalled enough, hyung. Go see him.”

Hongjoong feels his heart pound, the coffee he’d drank earlier rising to his throat and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. 

How do you look at the love of your life when you knew damn well that the entire reason they were hurting and would continue to hurt was nobody but yourself?

Who could ever muster up enough courage and shove that behind and be there for their love?

Hongjoong wishes he could be the strong one at this juncture but his magic keeps twisting, a reaction to his fear and anxiety as well as the knowledge that it hadn’t seen this coming nor sense the evil intentions, and it wasn’t helping matters much. 

In the time it takes for Hongjoong to gather himself and move away the books to the storage room he owns in Busan with a flourishing wave of his hand, Jongho merely stands waiting at the door, watching silently.

“Shall we?” The younger asks, a soft smile on his face.

Hongjoong nods, a ball of fear snowballing in the pit of his stomach at the consideration of the possibility that proximity with him might worsen things for Seonghwa.

His magic settles at the thought as if saying he is just overthinking.

He can’t help it though.

When it comes to Seonghwa, there aren’t many things Hongjoong could help himself in after all.

***

Unlike what he imagines would happen, it’s actually Wooyoung who opens the door for him, expression shifting from a tired frown to one of pure anger and betrayal.

Hongjoong sighs. He had prepared for it but it doesn't mean that it hurts any less.

The scene is familiar in a way, except for its obvious role reversal, taking him way back to the time when Wooyoung and San would drop in every other day, justifications ranging from the most solemn to the pointless before they progressed to just walking in with no explanation, his hand still holding the door open, a position Wooyoung is replicating now. Hongjoong had been prickly and hard to talk to, he still is for the ones who don't know him but back then, even if he allied the sound of the door opening with an exasperated huff when he'd see the pair, he'd appreciated it, the unasked invasion of his private space. 

In the present, Wooyoung inhales and exhales deeply as if he’s toeing the tiny line between control and losing it completely, his gaze conveying frustration. 

Hongjoong waits for the younger to make up his mind because he understands that he’s not their favourite at the moment, that he can’t expect them to understand why he did what he did and kept them out of the loop.

Wooyoung turns to Jongho.

“Is he here to see hyung?”

Jongho glances at him once, smiles and then, nods.

If it weren’t for the absolutely terrifying implications of the situation, Hongjoong would find the frown on Wooyoung’s face cute but today isn’t that day when he could appreciate how adorable his dongsaengs are when they get angry.

“We’re gonna have a talk,” Wooyoung says, eyes sharp, “after you see him.”

Hongjoong nods again, eyes stinging again as realization dawns upon him about how stupid he’s been, how selfish he’s been in the past three days.

One look from Wooyoung is enough to make him regret everything he has done.

Hongjoong must look as devastated as he feels inside because Wooyoung’s expression softens and then, he’s tearing up again, leaning forward and hugging Hongjoong with his arms tight around him. It surprises him even if he expects it. 

Hongjoong’s apologies are shushed as Wooyoung rocks them together for a few seconds.

His magic has always loved Wooyoung’s energy so when gold sparks around them, he feels a strand of optimism take root in him.

Jongho smiles knowingly.

Before Wooyoung finally lets him go, he feels his magic being embraced by a soft purple and his eyes close reflexively, basking in the comfort of the luminescence flowing in Wooyoung's veins and enveloping him, for a moment.

“Where is he?” Hongjoong asks after he toes off his shoes at the door.

Mingi answers for him from the couch, Yunho asleep on his lap. 

“Sleeping.”

Hongjoong had prepared for yelling and complaining. Looking at Mingi though, all he sees is concern for him and understanding.

The werewolf’s eyes flash a calm and radiant gold, the werewolf way of assurance before he closes it and leans on the couch.

“Go to him. We’re fine,” Mingi mumbles, as if he is aware of Hongjoong’s apologetic gaze upon him even though his eyes are still closed.

Jongho settles next to Mingi on the couch and cuddles up to him, the taller muttering about being used as a stand-in for Yeosang.

Hongjoong stares for a long moment, magic pulsing in anticipation.

Wooyoung follows him into Seonghwa’s room, keeping his steps light and barely noticeable.

When the door finally gives way under his hand, Hongjoong feels the way his magic erupts from his hands, plotting a golden path to Seonghwa who is lying on the bed facing the other side, breaths too stable for him to not be asleep. 

San is sitting on the chair next to the bed, eyes drooping but the moment he senses their presence, _ foreign _ in the sleepy haze, his gaze widens, and before he’s gained full awareness of his surroundings, his hands summon electric blue domes, one foot forward, shoulders squared.

Completely on defence mode.

If Hongjoong weren’t so emotionally exhausted, he swears he would have cried for how protective San is of Seonghwa even when he was sleep-deprived and suffering.

“San,” Wooyoung calls out, perhaps a bit loud by normal standards but that's to be expected and Hongjoong feels the realization kick in in the other warlock as he puts his hands down and rubs the bridge of his nose as quickly as he’d put his hands up to defend both Seonghwa and himself.

Hongjoong opens his mouth to speak but San merely puts a finger to his mouth and looks at Seonghwa before his lips stretch into a forgiving smile directed at Hongjoong. He looks tired, eyes swollen and red, visible even in the soft light from the ceiling where glowing stars are suspended, Wooyoung’s doing no doubt, and knowing them, he was certain they probably had a shift system so that someone would be around Seonghwa even when he slept. That explained why Yunho was dead to the world on Mingi’s lap and why Jongho and Wooyoung looked like they’d been battling monsters in the night instead of sleeping.

He had to have done something good in the previous life because the people around him kept going above and beyond for him and they had never let him down, not once.

It was just Hongjoong who could never seem to find a way to break this never-ending, inevitable and terrifying circle of hurting those he loved, albeit unintentionally.

He pats San on the shoulder in gratitude. The younger places his hand over Hongjoong’s and squeezes before pulling Wooyoung with him, the door softly closing with a flick of blue glowing vines courtesy of San.

Hongjoong wonders for a few minutes whether he should wake Seonghwa up, hovering near the bed before he gives up completely as he tears up. Seonghwa has left his side of the bed empty, a hand fisting the sheets on Hongjoong’s side, his dark eyebrows set in a frown. 

Hongjoong feels like he has no right to touch but he's never had the right to do anything in his life. 

Seonghwa though, had given him the right to want, to love unconditionally. 

If Hongjoong runs away now, he knows it'll be hard to convince himself to come back again, not that letting go of Seonghwa is in any way easy in thought or in practice but Hongjoong knows how stubborn he can be once he's made up his mind and if he lets Seonghwa in now, it would be hard to leave again.

Hongjoong doesn't want to leave, doesn't want logic and conditioned fear to drive him away from Seonghwa.

So he lies down, takes a few deep breaths and puts his arm around his boyfriend.

Seonghwa's breaths go uneven at his touch, the reaction making Hongjoong nearly pull away, his heart in his mouth, but Seonghwa clutches his hand and loops their fingers together.

"You came back."

Seonghwa's voice is wrecked. It's the kind of wrecked Hongjoong is familiar with when he has cried himself to sleep over something. 

Hongjoong doesn't have to call a medium in order to understand the reason this time. 

He feels a sour, debilitating feeling crawl in his chest.

_ Guilt _, Hongjoong recognizes.

"I did," Hongjoong says as Seonghwa turns in his hold.

His face is soft, exhaustion visible on every edge and curve of his face and his eyes, usually glowing and warm, are tired now and now that Hongjoong really knows what to look for, he sees the curse taking what Seonghwa is little by little. 

Hongjoong shifts the arm on Seonghwa's waist and places it on his cheek. He is comfortingly warm under the cool skin of Hongjoong’s palm.

“I’m sorry, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong says as Seonghwa’s hand comes to rest on top of his, pressing his hand to his cheek.

“Don’t be,” Seonghwa replies, eyes losing the haze of sleep that had been present mere moments ago as if things are suddenly clear to him.

Hongjoong shakes his head. He needs Seonghwa to accept his apology.

“Wait,” Seonghwa says, gaze widening as if some divine secret has been revealed to him, “Hongjoong,” he calls his name like a parent about to chastise his child but there’s also the love he feels for him underneath all that, a defensive tone to it like he can’t actually believe what he’s hearing, “are you apologizing because I’m cursed?” 

It’s one thing to speculate and another thing to confirm.

However, hearing Seonghwa say that he’s cursed like he’s admitted it to himself, that awareness is a whole entire level of acceptance Hongjoong isn’t prepared for.

Especially when his brain just couldn’t seem to give him a break from blaming himself for what has happened.

Hongjoong winces making Seonghwa sigh heavily, the slightly elder man sitting up, dragging Hongjoong along with him, their breaths mingling as they sit with their legs tucked under them, the soft glow of Wooyoung’s stars falling on their faces properly with the shift in position.

“Listen to me,” it’s the same tone from before but it has a desperate edge to it as if all Seonghwa wants Hongjoong to do is listen to him for once. “I know you think this is your fault. You’ve probably already mapped out a narrative already where you’re worse than the person who did this to me, solely because you think you lead them to me, that you did this to me.”

It’s incredible how Seonghwa can pick apart his entire thought process like he’s his most favourite book, one which he knows all the lines of, every word, every comma vividly detailed in his head, like he can recite them word for word even in the deepest and darkest trenches of his sleep cycle. 

A year into their relationship, it had terrified Hongjoong. Now, it just makes him feel defeated.

There had never been another meant for him. Seonghwa was _ it _ for him.

His one true love.

His endgame.

“What I need you to do is not go down that lane. Baby,” Hongjoong breaks a little at the name, “I know it’s hard but we don’t know for certain yet, okay? If they’re targeting me because I’m your boyfriend or if it’s just some other reason. So, I need you to stop blaming yourself.” Seonghwa leans in, bumping their foreheads, looking at him with eyes so earnest Hongjoong’s heart leaps and trembles in his chest, incapable of handling so much of his boyfriend’s undivided attention on him after the three days he has spent wallowing in self pity and hating himself for what he’s brought upon this beautiful man who has given him everything, kept doing it in fact, even if Hongjoong never understood why someone like Seonghwa would ever bother with someone like him.

“I wish,” Hongjoong sighs, his voice coming out wistful, “God, I wish, Seonghwa. I _ wish _ I could just convince myself that this has got nothing to do with me but even then, you’re still… you’re still cursed and I have no idea what to do to fix this, to help you. And no matter what I tell myself, deep down I know this is on me. Someone’s been feeling terribly wronged by me and they knew exactly whom to target to get back at me.”

“So what? You know what I think?” Seonghwa puts a hand on his chin and directs his face to him, their eyes meeting again. “I think that if that’s the case, I don’t give a fuck because if they thought they could hurt you through me, that’s testament to how much you love me, something I already know. If I die from this, I’ll die happy.”

It’s hard to be on the other side of Seonghwa’s words. He’s always so brutally honest Hongjoong finds it hard to breathe when he’s like this, giving him facts as they are, no dilution, no intention to placate. Seonghwa is different with their clique though. He coddles them to the extent it even puts Yujin to shame but it’s perhaps his awareness that Hongjoong doesn’t respond well to coddling that makes him be so painfully honest.

Perhaps talking about death might seem dramatic to others who aren’t privy to the workings of their world but Hongjoong and his magic knows the curse’s nature. It’s the only thing he’s figured out in the research done in the three days away, the visit to Eden and the worry he’d witnessed in Yunho’s eyes.

Hongjoong’s magic is mourning. It’s been mourning since the moment Hongjoong saw Seonghwa run to their room, a hand pressed to his chest and the realization in the silence that ensued for a few moments.

Hongjoong wants it to stop but it doesn’t, curling and trembling in pain every now and then, kicking the very breath out of his lungs and making him tear up at the most inopportune moments.

“I’d rather die than let that happen.”

Seonghwa’s gaze turns soft.

“No. I knew what I was getting into, Joong. I knew what I was risking. But I saw you and even if you warned me every single time, I didn’t want to listen. I wanted you, with everything I had. I still do and I don’t regret that.” He stares up at the stars on the ceiling and smiles, luminous and so in _ love _. 

“Remember when you first glowed?”

Hongjoong does. 

_ God, he does. _

It was the first time they held hands, Seonghwa dropping in to bring him lunch a few weeks after their chance meeting. They hadn’t been dating then, but the implication that neither of them wanted it to be just a friendship had been heavily present. Hongjoong had been going with the my-parents-left-me-with-a-bookshop-before-they-died-so-now-I’m-the-owner alibi like he did when he met new mundanes. Hongjoong remembers lunch turning to dinner and them ending up on the couch binge-watching some drama Seonghwa loved, the dialogues white noise in Hongjoong’s ears, their hands looped together. He had fallen asleep and when he woke up, Seonghwa had been looking at him with barely concealed awe, their hands still tangled comfortably. Hongjoong had scrambled to get up, his magic singing in happiness, content even with the realization that he’d let his guard down to the extent that he’d blown his cover. 

Seonghwa had stared for a whole minute before opening his mouth.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he’d said with so much fondness, completely awestruck.

Seonghwa had sensed the shift in atmosphere soon enough because he’d smiled warmly and complained about a paper that was due and bid him farewell.

Seonghwa didn’t ask anything about the random golden tendrils or why Jongho was burning rosemary in a bookstore or why days when Wooyoung would be ecstatic left behind soft purple flashes or why Yeosang only poked around on the plate when they had dinner together, not until Hongjoong finally made up his mind and confessed to him, months after they became a thing.

Hongjoong nods, remembering the rush in his bloodstream stemming from his magic’s lack of consideration of Seonghwa’s ignorance the first time they held hands.

It could have gone terribly had Seonghwa been an ignorant mundane but he hadn’t been scared even if his eyes couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Seonghwa had trusted Hongjoong unconditionally.

If he thinks about it, Seonghwa did everything like that.

_ Unconditionally. _

“I didn’t tell you but I watched the gold encase you for a solid hour before I moved. I didn’t know that the supernatural world or magic was real then and I should have been terrified enough to wonder if I was going mad because the boy I liked was fucking _ glowing _ in sleep but I wasn’t scared. The only thing I remember thinking is how I just wanted you to be mine and how much I wanted to be the one to make you glow.”

Hongjoong can’t help the raw chuckle the confession brings out of him.

“You do. You make me glow, Seonghwa.”

His voice comes out shaky and watery.

Hongjoong swears he_ isn’t _ a crybaby. He just has a lot of emotions when it comes to Seonghwa.

“I know that now,” Seonghwa admits and he’s so fucking sure of it, it makes Hongjoong feel so proud because they’ve both had their moments when even the best combination of reassurances would fail in getting their feelings through to their heads, when it’s impossible to convince each other that they could ever make the other happy and hearing Seonghwa admit to knowing that he is the reason Hongjoong’s magic is content, reverberating with warmth and potent like it’s never been before, makes him incredibly delighted.

Seonghwa coughs, his frame shaking with the force of it and it’s a cruel reminder of what’s happening. Hongjoong watches helplessly as his magic is repelled despite his attempts to heal and take the pain away even if for just a moment.

Seonghwa smiles at him when he’s done even as his chest heaves, heavy and in pain. His teeth aren’t bloodstained this time.

Hongjoong leans forward and puts his arms around him, afraid to hold him like he used to before.

“It’ll be alright,” Seonghwa says and he sounds so damn convinced it makes Hongjoong ache viscerally.

“I’ll be fine,” this, however, sounds like a lie, even as a kiss is pressed to his neck, the wet flutter of Seonghwa’s eyelashes a dead giveaway that Seonghwa is as scared as Hongjoong, that he’s keeping it together only for him.

“Do you trust me, Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong asks as he did three days ago.

“With everything I have, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa repeats. 

“The last time you asked that, I woke up to an empty bed,” Seonghwa adds like an afterthought. It isn’t particularly accusatory but Hongjoong hears the unasked question.

_ Will you be here when I wake up? Or will you leave again? _

“I’ll be here. I promise.”

Hongjoong’s magic still mourns but with the hope Jongho has lit in him and with Seonghwa so close to him, it starts burning again.

Hongjoong would save Seonghwa. Curses be damned. 

Briefly, he wonders if Wooyoung could wait until tomorrow to have that talk he promised Hongjoong. 

Yeah, he could definitely wait because Hongjoong wasn't going to leave Seonghwa alone.

_ Not again. _

***

"It's a draining curse combined with a memory hex," Yeonjun says, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. 

The guy doesn't even know Seonghwa but the way his kohl-rimmed eyes spell sympathy out doesn't sit well with Hongjoong. 

San's gasp is quiet but not quiet enough to go unnoticed. 

_ Memory hex. _

The words make his heart tumble and fall to the bottom of the ocean where skeletons of people who'd battled and succumbed to the inevitability of most curses rested, without salvation and prey to brutal deaths. 

He clutches Seonghwa's hand tightly in his. 

Hongjoong looks at Yeosang in an attempt to confirm if he should believe his ears but the vampire's gaze stays resolutely rooted to the ground, Jongho's hand rubbing circles on his back. 

Yeosang looks defeated and the last time he looked like that, both Wooyoung and San had lost something.

Hongjoong likes to pretend the situation in question never happened, of how helpless he and the rest of them had been when San and Wooyoung battled what was way beyond their payroll. In the grand scheme of things, what they gave up was perhaps not of great significance but what it signified, how far they'd gone for each other at the face of an inevitability they could avoid only by losing something of each other, that had been traumatic enough for all of them. 

Seonghwa seems lost at the words ‘memory hex’ because just this morning, Hongjoong had sat him down to reveal the intricacies of a draining curse, of how fatal it could be.

San had helped finish sentences Hongjoong had found particularly difficult to utter with his mouth.

But the conversation hadn't involved any mention of a hex which was memory-related. 

At the moment, everyone in the room except for Seonghwa seems to get exactly what the words mean. Hongjoong figures that it isn’t fair for him to keep him out of the loop but as if to save Hongjoong from revealing the workings of this one hex that had the power to take everything they are and turn it into nothing, Yeosang looks up, face a mask void of emotion.

“It takes your memories away. It’s usually targeted at one person who is closely associated with the person who is at the receiving end of the hex. You’ll forget him and by proxy, everything related to him,” Yeosang pauses like he’s wondering if he should go ahead with what’s at the tip of his tongue. Hongjoong watches his hands grip Jongho’s one hand on his thigh and squeeze it. “You’ll forget all of us. It’ll be like we never met. That’s if the other curse doesn’t do its job first.”

Seonghwa stares at Yeosang as if he has spoken an alien language, the details to which he is ignorant, disbelief hanging onto his features.

Seonghwa’s hand encased in his is warm but it is also trembling.

Hongjoong watches the words sink in and grab Seonghwa by the heart, threatening to rip him apart at the seams. Hongjoong’s magic curls in on itself and unfurls slowly, like it has decided to stay calm only after a wave of panic has registered completely by it.

“Am I…” Seonghwa pauses and scrunches his eyes shut, Hongjoong’s inner peace in shambles at the connotations of a layered curse and what it means, considering everything that made them who they are individually, and to each other.

Hongjoong knows exactly what Seonghwa is going to ask and he scrambles through years of burgeoned knowledge, of spells, curses and hexes, of training and desperation to gain control and all he gets is nothing.

As long as they don’t find the source, the inevitable would transpire and the one thing Hongjoong cherishes more than most would slip away right through his fingers like fine and golden sand.

“Am I going to forget you?” 

Seonghwa asks and his hand gripping Hongjoong’s weaken at the sheer prospect, at the strength he had to amass to utter those doomed words.

“I’m not going to let you,” Hongjoong says, quickly and he wants to make it sound like a promise but all it sounds like is the desperation of a man who is at the verge of losing everything.

Seonghwa is smart, Hongjoong has known this even before he fell completely and utterly in love with him. He might choose to be pliant and respond only when it is necessary but that’s just his way of showing love to the people he cares about, of saving his energy for better things because he believes that the universe already had enough of impulsive and angry people, of negative and evil things that choosing to be good, that getting to pick to be who he is, that being civil and pleasant was how he could contribute to a world which could benefit from that and be just a bit kinder, a tad happier.

At the end of the day, Seonghwa is the smartest man Hongjoong has ever known and that perhaps is why Seonghwa picks up on the fact that Hongjoong has avoided his question.

It’s a clear answer.

_ Yes or no. _

Hongjoong would be honest if it were a client but it’s _ his _ Seonghwa in front of him, asking him what anyone who has ever fallen in love shouldn’t have to ask their significant other.

“Hongjoong, am I going to…”

The question is an unfinished refrain which hangs in the air as Hongjoong pulls Seonghwa into his arms, the angle weird from their position on the couch, his magic mourning again and making Hongjoong feel like all the motivation he’d subjected himself to when Seonghwa was sleeping is dying.

_ Dying. _

Seonghwa has voiced in the morning, dawn carving out a perfect sunrise for the world, that he was aware of the outcome of a draining curse, of the shrivelling, trembling body he’d become as his soul was leeched away by dark magic.

Hongjoong had shed silent tears at how easily acceptance had come to Seonghwa for a fate Hongjoong had unknowingly dragged him into. 

But the memory hex is an unplanned glitch. Hongjoong can see Seonghwa visibly shaken up at the possibility of forgetting him, of how utterly broken he is at the prospect of that particular twist of fate. The world doesn’t deserve Seonghwa but that didn’t mean that it had any right to take him away from Hongjoong.

Hongjoong whispers resolute negatives before progressing to assurances which all come out sounding unintentionally empty.

Yeonjun tips his head back and wipes his eyes none so subtly across them. Hongjoong conceals the sigh that erupts from his chest at the action. 

Mingi walks out of the room, mumbling something about fresh air just as Wooyoung lets out a quiet sounding sob, clinging desperately to San who also looked like he was barely holding it together.

“It’s a fail-safe.”

Yeonjun clears his throat when his voice comes out clogged up, a few minutes after Mingi comes in, nose red and eyes flickering between gold and dark brown.

“What is?” Hongjoong asks, Seonghwa’s hand in his again as they part from the hug.

“The memory hex. It was done at a later point like the draining curse wasn’t doing its proper job.”

Hongjoong feels like his brain has stopped working, filled to the brim with curse associated information only.

“I don’t understand. How do you know that?”

Yeosang had brought Yeonjun along, stating that he could help but Hongjoong doesn’t know what the other man is, if he is a warlock, a druid or a sorcerer. With the authority he oozed while talking about the curses, he figures he’s a warlock because it was the most likely conclusion but knowing the time frame of a curse and knowing the intention of it meant something more.

“I’m a curse watcher, hyung. And by failsafe, I mean that if the draining curse failed somehow, the memory hex will take over. So even if the one who cast it doesn’t get to see him die, they will get to watch him forget you. It’s driven by high levels of vengeance and rage,” Yeonjun replies, answering the unasked question.

Hongjoong feels his eyes go wide at the words.

Yeosang had found a _ curse watcher _ for Seonghwa. A curse watcher who knew the intentions of the one who cast the curse on his boyfriend. 

He hopes the look he sends Yeosang is enough for the vampire to surmise how grateful he is that he went to the lengths he did.

The how and the where, he figures he’ll save for later.

“Do you mind?” Yeonjun asks, his hand extended over the coffee table, palm facing the ceiling, a myriad of strange runes drawn with impeccable attention to detail on the skin.

Hongjoong stares at the hand in confusion before he looks at Seonghwa and gestures with his chin.

Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate.

Yeonjun hisses at the initial contact, Seonghwa flinching and going to move away at the other’s response but Yeonjun holds on tight. The tan skin around his eyes turns dark before it’s completely black, darker vines spreading on the planes of his face. 

Seonghwa turns pink-tinted, swollen eyes to him, filled with concern for the stranger who looked like he was in pain. Hongjoong just grips his other hand tighter and closes his eyes in a gesture of reassurance.

When Yeonjun lets go of Seonghwa’s hand, he looks like he is dazed and he collapses sideways onto Yunho who puts an arm around the thin frame of the younger man.

He gestures weakly with a palm out, attempting to straighten himself up.

“I can lend some,” Yunho says, addressing Yeonjun, keeping the man close with a hand around his bicep.

Yeonjun looks like he’s about to refuse the other’s offer for replenishing his elemental magic reserves before he reconsiders and acquiesces with a nod. Yunho seeks silent permission and loops their fingers together, white and green mingling at the point where their skin meets.

Yeonjun taps Yunho with his thumb as if saying that’s enough, a quiet mumble of gratitude voiced at the druid who nods and sits back, away from Yeonjun’s personal space.

Once the whole replenishing magic ordeal is over, Hongjoong leans forward, the confirmation from before that whoever cursed Seonghwa has a clear vendetta against him lingering in his mind.

“What did you do?”

Whatever it was, Hongjoong is certain it wasn’t dangerous to Seonghwa but he still wants to know.

“Slowed down the curse. The memory hex hasn’t begun yet,” Yeonjun looks conflicted as he opens his mouth again to say something, sighing to himself when it seems like he can’t articulate it properly, giving Yeosang an odd look when he, Hongjoong assumes, hits a verbal block.

Hongjoong can tell that the curse watcher hasn’t had it easy. It’s palpable in the way he is hesitant, the uncertainty that looms in his actions ever noticeable to even someone like Hongjoong who doesn’t particularly pay much attention to the nervous ticks of strangers who were well-mannered.

In another universe, he can see Wooyoung pull the other out of this self-imposed cage situation but it seems that this world, no matter how unkind it has been to all of them, had a purpose for them.

Seonghwa’s expression is one of concern and Hongjoong finds his heart shiver for his boyfriend who had empathy for everyone he met. He watches as the other encourages Yeonjun with a small smile, asking him to go on.

Yeonjun though, seemed hesitant even as he smiles at Seonghwa and looks towards Yeosang again. The vampire seems to realize what he’s asking for.

“You can say it. It’s okay. No one will think ill of you for stating your observations or assumptions, Yeonjun.”

That seems to be the push Yeonjun needs to voice his thoughts properly.

“There’s something wrong… with him? In him?” His eyes screw shut as if the confusion isn’t very familiar to people like him. “The curses, they’re conflicted. They fight one moment and the next, they are shaken up. I’ve never seen this before. I don’t know if it’s the caster whose dark magic is uncontrollable enough to cause this or if it’s something else working beyond it.”

Hongjoong frowns at the words, unaware of whether he should take it as a good sign or not.

“You mentioned that he coughs up blood. That isn’t the sort of draining curse that’s been placed on him. No offence intended, but with the kind of curse placed on him, you shouldn’t have known about it until he was dead so this is strange. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Well, that is just _ spectacular _, isn’t it? Hongjoong thinks.

“He mentioned a stack of magician cards. Can I see them?” 

Hongjoong nods, San rising to his feet before Hongjoong can, a silent gesture that he’ll get them. 

Jongho had left in between to make tea, returning with it just as San went downstairs to the shop to get the tarot deck.

Hongjoong smells chamomile and smiles at the younger.

The calming quality of the tea is much needed at the moment. Hongjoong takes another sniff of the air and at the slight hint of rowan leaf and dandelion from Yeonjun and Seonghwa’s cups, raises an eyebrow at the younger warlock.

“He is drained,” he mouths, gesturing with a thumb at Yeonjun.

Hongjoong nods, understanding dawning and pride creeping at the consideration the younger showed.

The reason behind the addition of dandelion isn’t revealed. But it’s obvious why Jongho chose that particular additive for Seonghwa instead of the myriad choices.

_ Rejuvenation _.

When San returns, ring-adorned hands passing the deck to Yeonjun, the tea is still hot.

Yeonjun thumbs the deck with his eyes closed, white glow enclosing his hands.

Hongjoong can tell that his magic is antsy at the strange force emitting from the curse watcher but he knows the exact reason why it’s reacting like it can’t decide whether Yeonjun’s magic is good or evil.

Curse watchers were cursed themselves after all.

“The deck isn’t cursed,” Yeonjun says.

They had figured as much.

Hongjoong senses a but coming from miles away.

“But the deck isn’t a common one. It’s familiar. There’s a shop in Incheon which sells the same kind of decks.”

Hongjoong rubs circles on Seonghwa’s skin with his thumb.

“Are you sure?”

Yeonjun nods curtly.

“I have a deck with the same magician card in it. I did the owner a favour a year ago and he gifted me a deck.”

“If someone bought 78 decks to collect just the magician cards, the owner might know them, won’t he?” Wooyoung asks from where he has been silent, curled up near the arm of the couch.

“Yeah, it’s a strange purchase. I can call him up and let you know. It can save you some trouble with travelling too. Especially with his condition.”

Yeonjun sends an encouraging smile to Seonghwa, mirroring the same one that Seonghwa had given the younger just a few minutes ago. 

“So, what next?” Hongjoong asks, when the silence drags on.

“I’ll have to repeat the spell I did now for two more days. It’ll buy you some time to find the caster. I’ll be in the city for a month so in case you need me to come back, I can. Eden hyung said that all he needed was some time to figure things out.”

Hongjoong knew he’d owe Yeonjun a lifetime for what he was doing for them. No questions asked. The curse watcher also seemed like one of those people whom everyone in the circle knew except Hongjoong. 

“You can stay here. It’ll be easier since you have to do the spell anyway.” 

Hongjoong is grateful that Seonghwa’s compulsive cleaning tendency means their guest rooms are always clean. Otherwise, if he had to clean in the midst of his world hanging on a precarious balance, he would have lost his mind.

“We can help if you’re drained,” San offers, the implication that both Wooyoung and San can help with magic if Yeonjun needed replenishing coming through clearly.

Hongjoong doesn't offer because mage magic didn't have a reliable history in being used to aid curse watchers. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says, Yeonjun waving away the apology with a hesitant and shy smile and it suddenly clicks in Hongjoong that it should, perhaps, have been the first thing he should have said to Yeonjun. With the tension and stress mounting at unpredictable rates, basic courtesy had exited Hongjoong’s manners list quite spectacularly.

The words of gratitude merely served to be one more reason on a never-ending list of reasons why Hongjoong needs Seonghwa by his side.

To remind him of the things he shouldn’t forget, to speak for him when his mind is an uncultured mess of a terrain, to hold him when he was falling apart at the seams and then in his entirety, to love him when he was so damn certain that no one ever could.

Because Seonghwa was, is and will continue to be Hongjoong’s better half for all of yesterday, today and the million more tomorrows to come.

***

The two days that follow are stressful but Seonghwa doesn’t, for lack of better words, relapse. He doesn’t cough up blood or look like he’s dying by the second.

Hongjoong doesn’t let his boyfriend leave home though, despite the other’s attempts to convince that he was better and that his regulars will miss him.

Jongho and Yeosang promise to open the cafe as a truce, side-eyeing Hongjoong to let it be.

Seonghwa isn’t convinced until Yunho joins in on the plan too.

Having Yeonjun live with them for the next two days isn’t extremely awkward like Hongjoong had expected it to be. He’s careful around them but in the few hours he spends with him, Hongjoong is convinced that Wooyoung is walking away from this shitty ordeal with a new best friend.

At least something good came out of this, Hongjoong consoles himself.

It isn’t the best situation to make friends but in their world, it was all about making the most of what they were given.

“He’s done packing,” Seonghwa says, walking into their bedroom and hugging Hongjoong from the back, enveloping him in immediate and familiar warmth.

“Is he?” Hongjoong asks, rhetorically, staring out the window at the rowan tree branch, the leaves rustling with the wind.

“Shall I ask him to come in?” Seonghwa presses a kiss on the top of his head, rubbing a circle on his stomach before letting go as Hongjoong nods.

Hongjoong hears the muffled thump of the other’s footsteps leave the room. Moments later, there’s another presence.

It takes a while for Yeonjun to gather his wits. Hongjoong knows he must come off as intimidating but he hasn’t acted like he usually would to the curse watcher so the anxiety leaves him scrambling to see if he’s done anything that would warrant the reaction.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong turns around at that, the younger clearing his throat as he faces him.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow.

“I’m leaving.”

“Is Mingi dropping you or are you going alone?”

“He’s dropping me at the station.”

Hongjoong nods to himself, a part of him disappointed at seeing the younger go while the rest of him screams at the reason why they ever had to meet in the first place.

“I’ll see you then,” Hongjoong says, not wanting the quiet to drag on endlessly.

Yeonjun sighs and squares his shoulders as if in preparation to say something. Hongjoong waits patiently.

“Is there a possibility that he knew, hyung?”

The question is ambiguous, giving nothing away regarding the younger’s intentions except for the fact that the man in question is Seonghwa without a doubt.

“Know what?”

Yeonjun grimaces as if he’s tasted something bitter.

“Could he have known something was wrong and kept it from you?”

The instant answer is no but Hongjoong knows better than to assume because Seonghwa had questionable self-preservation instincts. Coughing up blood, that Seonghwa had kept from him.

The star anise incident with Jongho had been kept a secret too but other than that, Seonghwa hasn’t kept anything from Hongjoong.

“No. When he used to get sick the past couple of weeks, he just assumed it was something like throat infection or stress. He wouldn’t keep anything from me.”

Yeonjun nods, as if he is satisfied at the confidence Hongjoong spoke with.

It’s a test and Hongjoong gets the feeling that both he and Seonghwa have passed it.

“Why?” Hongjoong asks.

“I’m sceptical… about mundanes but it seems he’s really as good as his soul screams he is.” 

Yeonjun doesn’t elaborate.

Hongjoong would have been offended at someone doubting the man he loves but Eden had brought him up with all the awareness he must have to survive that he knows enough to realize that Yeonjun is just doing what’s routine, what anyone would when faced with a situation like theirs where there’s seven connected to the realm of magic and one who isn’t.

“I’ll inform Eden hyung of the rest,” Yeonjun assures.

"The draining curse needed direct contact, hyung. Keep an eye on everyone around him."

When Yeonjun finally walks out the door, it’s with a promise to come back if he’s needed, a dead-end regarding the shop owner lead and a knowing smile on his lips as if he’s aware of something Hongjoong hasn’t figured out yet.

***

There aren’t any random bouquets or tarot decks being dropped about in the days that follow and Hongjoong watches as Seonghwa gets increasingly agitated with every passing day.

San and Wooyoung are called on a job by the Council that they can’t avoid and Hongjoong sees life falling back into place except that the curse is ever-present despite the fact that nothing manifests in the physical world enough to prove its existence.

Seonghwa stays home, though not by his wish, the cafe opening daily as per the promise made by Yunho, Jongho and Yeosang.

If Hongjoong closes his eyes and opens it, that split second when he can’t quite gather his wits, in that split second they’re living the same life they did before except for the fact that Seonghwa is home more often.

It’s nice to not think about magical paraphernalia or hexes for once and just live like they’re a normal couple on an extended vacation but staying cooped up in the confines of their apartment and the reason behind it aren’t pleasant to think about.

Hongjoong finishes work on the replica of the amulet he’d given Seonghwa which he had lost at the club a few weeks ago.

When he finally gives it to him, Hongjoong’s magic feels fulfilled but what follows really makes him think that he really should have seen this coming.

“I want to go to the cafe, Joong,” Seonghwa says, thumb and forefinger caressing the grooves on the charmed amulet, hair wet from the shower he’d taken and eyes downcast.

Hongjoong feels his smile fade as soon as he hears the words.

“It’s just until Eden hyung figures something out,” Hongjoong placates, desperate, well aware that he’s fighting a losing battle because when Seonghwa is like this, he gets his way.

It’s not like Hongjoong has locked Seonghwa up and sworn to never let him see the light of day. It’s just that he’s concerned, they’re _ all _ concerned and the discussion had ended with a decision to make Seonghwa stay in the apartment which Hongjoong has warded with his magic and some spells to which all of them except Yeosang and Mingi had contributed.

Eden hadn’t completely been on board with the idea, telling Hongjoong that no matter how much he shielded him, what was meant to happen would happen.

“I know it’s hard, Seonghwa, but please,” Hongjoong pleads.

Seonghwa swallows hard and takes a deep breath. 

Hongjoong’s magic retreats to his core as if saying it can’t help him in this particular scenario.

“Every day, every time I see your face, it’s a reminder of the uncertainty looming over me, of whether I’ll get to live to fulfil our forever, if I’ll get to wake up to you for the rest of our lives, whether I’ll be stuck like this, counting down my days and be scared that if I die, you’re going to be alone.”

Hongjoong gapes like Seonghwa has just taken a silver stake and driven it right down on his heart.

“I don’t want to live like this, Hongjoong. I want to go to the cafe and make coffee for strangers. I want to come back home and make out with you till we’re both sleepy. I don’t want to stay here and be scared of stepping out, of this curse which threatens to take everything from us.”

Hongjoong feels tears gather at the corner of his eyes but he doesn’t let them fall.

“I’m… I’m not going to let you die, Seonghwa. I can’t…” he trails off, head falling to his hands at the number of times Seonghwa has insinuated that he will die from this curse.

Hongjoong would rather let hell freeze over a million times.

Seonghwa kneels in front of him, gently pulling his hands away, craning his neck slightly to look at Hongjoong.

And _ God _, he looked so in love with Hongjoong.

How did he ever get this beautiful soul to fall in love with him?

“I know, baby, I know you wouldn’t but this… this is a reminder of the possibility. Every day I spend here… I love our home but every day is a reminder of this curse. Of how helpless we are in the face of it. Of how desperate you are to get help and watching you this hopeless, this anxious, it makes me so scared. I want to live like I did before. At least I’ll have that if…”

Hongjoong presses his lips to Seonghwa’s in a desperate bid to stop him from repeating what he did before.

“Please don’t say it,” Hongjoong whispers, his hands on either side of Seonghwa’s jawline, cradling his face like he’s the most precious thing in the world.

_ He is. _

For him.

Seonghwa looks at him with stormy eyes, nods vigorously and raises a hand to wipe his tears away. Hongjoong grabs it, pressing a kiss to his palm and holds it tight.

Seonghwa gets up and straddles Hongjoong’s hips, leaning down and connecting their lips in a kiss which is sure to leave his lips bruised but Hongjoong lets him because he’s his one true love. 

There aren’t many things he wouldn’t do for him.

Hongjoong gives as good as he gets, lips clashing and asserting dominance, switching dynamics between pliant and controlling and it feels like a choreographed dance, with how they listen to the unspoken cues and kiss each other, barely stopping for oxygen.

The evening is spent like that, forgetting the curse in the kisses left on hip bones and being enveloped by tight heat, in breathless kisses and soft whispers.

Hongjoong stares at the ceiling, naked under the comforter which covers him and Seonghwa.

His magic is content, it usually is after their intimate escapades because sex is as close to a physical connection Hongjoong can give Seonghwa, the only time Seonghwa will feel the magic pulse in his veins too because the physical tethering is easier when you’re that viscerally connected.

It isn’t a necessity. Obviously, but it helps to have his magic radiate to Seonghwa’s skin and traverse his veins, leaving him with a comfortable and heady feeling before he can calm down if he was ever wound up in the first place.

“You should go. To the cafe, I mean.”

Seonghwa smiles into his clavicle and cuddles closer to him.

Hongjoong’s feels his lips quirk in a pathetic and hollow imitation of a smile but his magic thrums in his veins, as if comforting him and appreciating him for being the bigger man and giving up on his stubbornness.  
Hongjoong feels defeated because how is he supposed to protect Seonghwa when they’re in different places? He could stay at the cafe but what if Seonghwa doesn’t want him to? 

Maybe Seonghwa needs some space.

Maybe Hongjoong needs to stop being so overbearing.

“Joong, you’ll come with me, won’t you?”

Seonghwa asks, sleep-addled voice coming out thin but Hongjoong hears him loud and clear.

He nods vigorously, smiling genuinely this time.

One day at a time, he tells himself, Seonghwa’s hair tickling his chin.

***

Perhaps it’s the feeling that what he’s doing is very similar to what helicopter parents do or maybe it’s the realization that Seonghwa really should get some space, away from him and this magical crap, that finds Hongjoong walking towards the door of the cafe, ready to leave, his magic disappointed and twisted in a pretzel in protest inside him.

It isn’t morning quite yet, the cafe is still closed for service considering how it is still an unholy hour, the sky outside a murky midnight blue, lightening up as sunrise nears. Hongjoong wishes he could just ignore reality and listen to the musings of his magic but constant anxiety is sickening and Hongjoong sees no escape.

The last time he checked, Jongho and Yeosang were busy with Seonghwa in the kitchen, tiny bits of floor sticking to their aprons as Seonghwa whipped the cream with a hand mixer, laughing at something Yeosang said.

Seonghwa wouldn’t know if he left and Hongjoong would know if he’s hurt anyway because of the spell.

Hongjoong’s been accompanying Seonghwa to the cafe for the past week. He usually just sits at the corner table, a book in front of him just for the hell of it, eyes puttering across every living creature entering and exiting the establishment.

He has had to watch as Seonghwa threw his head back and laughed at the group of teenagers who complimented his looks, red creeping on his skin and the way his boyfriend was ever the humble one, accepting the compliments with a shy smile as an old man praised his pastries and told him how proud he should be for being able to eke out a living on his own.

In Seonghwa’s cafe, even if the people aren’t constants, they validate him. 

Despite being an economics major, Seonghwa had known he wanted to open a cafe ever since he turned sixteen, live a normal life and be happy with the little things in life. 

It’s something Hongjoong has always known about him. 

It’s only natural that he feels the happiest living what was once a dream for him. Hongjoong knows that Seonghwa can never imagine confining himself to an executive chair and an ivory cubicle for an entire lifetime.

These thoughts would be harmless because honestly, he is so fucking _ happy _ for his boyfriend for carving his own path despite the expectations and pressures of society. But the sheer mention of normalcy is damning for Hongjoong because he knows he has, by associating himself with Seonghwa, ruined the concept for Seonghwa forever.

If Hongjoong never sat on that sidewalk to pet that cat, Seonghwa would have fallen for someone who wasn’t him. He could have lived a normal life, free from being constantly worried for Hongjoong because of the dangers pervading their realm, free from a curse which threatens to strip him of everything he has become.

Hongjoong is tired of feeling constantly divided but he knows as happy as he makes Seonghwa, he has effectively rendered him unable to enjoy the normalcy he could have experienced too, had Hongjoong not been petting an emaciated feline on a sunny day.

Seonghwa has had his anxieties about not fitting in with Hongjoong’s side of the world too, but at this moment, logic goes out the window as easily as a paper ball thrown into the trash can.

He’s never felt like this before but suddenly, the pretty walls of the one place Seonghwa loves as much as their apartment feel like they’re closing in on him.

For the first time, Hongjoong feels like he’s a mistake in Seonghwa’s life.

A mistake that threatens Seonghwa’s shot at normalcy.

One that could cost him his life.

Hongjoong flinches when he feels a warm hand grip his shoulder.

“Stop,” Seonghwa whispers as he turns Hongjoong around and pulls him close to his chest, their bodies touching from their knees to their neck.

“Stop what, Hwa?” Hongjoong asks, his magic tremulous inside, his voice wobbly because he can’t _ fucking _ breathe as his brain refuses to shut down.

“Whatever you’re thinking about, stop,” Seonghwa says again, holding Hongjoong even tighter.

Hongjoong lets out a sob he doesn’t mean to, a litany of apologies slipping out from his mouth, Seonghwa replying with assurances and calming words which all sound like white noise to him.

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong whispers again when his sobs have died down to sniffles.

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Seonghwa says, stern and the world shifts as Hongjoong feels the air jam into his lungs, finally being able to breathe again, the scent of coffee wonderfully exhilarating, his magic stroking his insides peacefully at the familiar scent.

Hongjoong feels nostalgia say cheers to him as Seonghwa’s amulet slips outside from the parting between the collar of his shirt.

He chases the odd feeling like someone who gets up in the middle of the night to check for monsters under their bed, finding nothing.

The feeling leaves a sour taste in his mouth, making Hongjoong zone out even as Seonghwa sits down opposite him, his smile oozing warmth and all the reasons why Hongjoong loves loving him.

An hour later, eyes set on Seonghwa’s retreating back, Hongjoong realizes he hadn’t even been able to bring himself to touch the door handle, much less actually leave.

***

It’s on a night three days later when it’s pouring cats and dogs when San and Wooyoung drop in, marking the pair’s first visit completely unrelated to Seonghwa after they figured out that something was wrong.

The sound of the rain outside is harsh but also comforting somehow, Hongjoong thinks, closing the door behind him. 

San shakes his head to get rid of the water droplets clinging to his hair.

Hongjoong watches Seonghwa scoff in disapproval, furrowing his eyebrows at the carpet with visible wet spots on it, hands holding a tray with tea and cookies.

“You’re making the carpet wet, you big puppy,” Seonghwa says, setting the tray down gently.

“Am I?” San asks, pulling Wooyoung with his hands and making him shake his head too.

“Double trouble,” Hongjoong mouths at Seonghwa as he leans back in defeat at the duo’s antics.

“You dry our hair and we stop trailing water on your carpet. Truce?” Wooyoung offers, extending an olive branch making Hongjoong snort because it doesn’t sound like a truce. Rather, it sounded like the duo were in desperate need of some coddling.

Something Hongjoong knows for a fact that Seonghwa enjoys. Seonghwa makes a show of getting up, fake groan and all and disappears to the guest room to grab the clothes they kept for when they’d have sleepovers. The pair settles down on the carpet without care for the cold radiating from the floor through the thick cloth.

“You’re going to get sick, brats,” Hongjoong warns, feeling like he’s dealing with teenagers instead of adults who had responsibilities to fulfil and bills to pay.

Wooyoung tilts his head to look back at him, looking for all intents and purposes, like an actual puppy.

With lilac hair and an affinity for screeching.

“Are you worried, hyung?” He asks, voice higher than normal, lips jutted out in a pout and eyes looking like that one emoji in kakaotalk that he loves using.

Hongjoong sighs but doesn’t reply, knowing he will be stepping into a trap if he did so.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll get sick when we have a whole Seonghwa hyung on our side,” San says, the pure way he says Seonghwa’s name making Hongjoong want to bundle San up in a blanket and keep him safe from the clutches of the world.

“Sanie, Hongjoong hyung doesn’t know his husband’s worth. Seonghwa hyung deserves so much better,” Wooyoung whines, an expression of fake offence overtaking his face.

Hongjoong chokes at the word _ husband _ as Seonghwa sits down on the couch, his neck flushing a pretty pink, undoubtedly reacting to Wooyoung’s words.

“I already have everything I need, you brats,” Seonghwa declares as he hands the clothes he’s brought to San and dries Wooyoung’s hair, his thigh brushing Hongjoong’s due to their proximity.

Hongjoong preens at the words, knowing Seonghwa means it with everything he has.

“Sap,” Wooyoung and San holler, their laughs a harmony in sync, breaking the bubble Hongjoong’s mind would have otherwise slipped into.

Seonghwa merely smiles to himself and gets back to carefully drying Wooyoung’s hair once the other is done cackling like a hyena.

After they’re done having dinner, San says they should get a move on, the rain having reduced to a slight drizzle.

“Stay for the night,” Hongjoong says, his dad mode on full throttle.

“You just came back too. Both of you must be tired,” Seonghwa reasons, mentioning their most recent job from the Council, like he’s reading Hongjoong’s mind.

San hesitates for a moment, Hongjoong notes because he’s known this boy as long as he’s known Seonghwa that it’s hard _ not _ to notice even the slightest changes. Wooyoung cuddles up to Seonghwa and declares that he’s not moving until he’s removed by force. The action is enough for him to figure that whatever it is, it’s only San who is consumed by it.

Hongjoong watches San smile softly at the pair before he finally settles again on the floor in front of the couch, leaning his back in the space between Hongjoong’s legs.

He resolutely keeps his mouth shut, choosing to run his hands through the younger’s hair, letting gold surround them before he leans and presses a kiss to the wet mop of black hair, a content sigh leaving San’s mouth along with a soft blue glow as he grabs Hongjoong’s hand for a moment in gratitude. Hongjoong catches Seonghwa and Wooyoung smile fondly at them from the other end of the couch.

Wooyoung’s eyes light up like he has a plan and a solid second later, he has a smooth cheek presented to him.

“Kisses for me?” He requests, pliant.

Hongjoong feels a fond laugh escaping his throat at the younger warlock’s actions.

He leans in and pecks Wooyoung on the cheek, the younger humming contently and crawling back to Seonghwa who puts an arm around him.

San is lost somewhere, gaze unfocused when Hongjoong suggests that he should go to sleep if he was tired.

It’s some time after midnight when Seonghwa is asleep that Hongjoong wakes up in a cold sweat, lingering vestiges of a terrifying dream in the fading haze of his mind, his throat parched like a reaction to fear. Hongjoong gropes the bedside table for the pitcher and groans to himself when he doesn’t find it.

Seonghwa’s breathing is even, calm, a sign that he’s free of nightmares tonight. Hongjoong can’t resist the urge to plant a kiss on his forehead before he gets up carefully to get water.

When he finally drags his feet to the kitchen, Hongjoong gives himself ample credit for not yelping at San’s mumbled _ good evening _.

The younger is seated on the kitchen floor, back against the cupboard, hair mussed from sleep, looking like a failed model for a vague attempt at replicating some kind of avant-garde hairstyle.

“Binging on loneliness and night air?” Hongjoong asks, sitting next to the younger with a glass of water.

“Maybe,” San replies, smiling sadly.

Hongjoong takes a sip of his water and sets the glass down, linking his fingers together.

“Is something wrong, San?” He questions, not quite fond of beating around the bush.

“No,” San answers quickly, too quick for it to be convincing, “Maybe,” he says, after a moment.

Hongjoong angles his body to convey that he’s listening.

“Do you ever feel like you let him down somehow, hyung?”

San’s not looking at him, his eyes closed, a misleading serene look on his face.

Hongjoong thinks about the question.

“Multiple times. It’s not always a big thing but I’m guilty of letting him down one too many times.”

San nods in understanding, turning to face him, his long, sharp eyes focusing on him.

“But he still loves you,” San says, like he’s talking about how the sun rises in the east, a universal truth.

Hongjoong has a clue as to where this conversation is going. Honestly, he knows that San is just using him as a platform to bounce off the thoughts he has but Hongjoong isn’t offended because this is better than when San would just shut down for days on end, unreachable and unresponsive to anyone but Wooyoung.

“He does,” Hongjoong answers, despite the lack of an actual question.

“Do you think Wooyoung loves me like that too?”

Hongjoong tilts his head, hoping he looks as shocked as he feels.

“Of course, San. He wouldn’t trade you for the world,” Hongjoong assures, squeezing his knee and letting go.

“Do I deserve it though? After what he has had to give up?” San’s voice is coloured with self-doubt and Hongjoong has been there a million times so he thinks he’s qualified enough to provide advice.

“You can’t make decisions for him, San. You deserve all the faith and love Wooyoung has for you because he chose you. Out of anyone he could have picked, he fell for _ you _ ,” San nods, eyes glistening with tears but he won’t cry, Hongjoong _ knows _ he won’t, not now when this reminder is necessary, so he continues, “About what he gave up... he wasn’t the only one who had to give up something, you had to do it too. Even if you didn’t have to, he wouldn’t have cared, you know that, don’t you? You know him best, San, and he loves you as you are and nothing and no one will ever change that.”

San leans over and embraces him, head tucked against his chest before he loosens his grip and lets go but not before he whispers a small _ thank you _.

They stay in the quiet night for what seems like an eternity, gold and blue mingling as both their powers attempt to comfort each other.

“We won’t let anything happen to him, hyung,” San’s voice cuts through the silence and spills over with the same certainty he had before he pulled Wooyoung on that journey when all else was bleak and hopeless.

Hongjoong has faith in that certainty.

“If Eden hyung can’t find a way, we will.”

Hongjoong smiles at the younger’s spirit.

When he tucks himself back in bed, Seonghwa clinging to his shirt moments after he has laid down, his head is void of curses and deaths.

***

Hongjoong doesn't expect things to go super well but they do stay stable for the time being, much to the absolute delight of his mounting anxiety. 

When he isn't watching or holding Seonghwa, he finds himself thinking about him.

It isn't a novelty to his heart or his head. 

Maybe that's why days go by and it gets easier to breathe.

Hongjoong has the occasional breakdowns when reality hits hard but for the most part, he can pretend like nothing unpleasant or particularly distressing is happening because externally, nothing is.

The insides are a different story. 

If Hongjoong looks just a bit closer, he can see the curse in Seonghwa pulse in sync with the other's heartbeat. 

Seonghwa stays happy, or as happy as he can be, at least in front of him. He doesn't break down as such but he does grow more tired by the day, clinging to Hongjoong when he takes a day off, a phenomenon that is a new addition to their otherwise normal routine.

Eden doesn't call him with jobs and allows him to close his shop down till further notice. There are some urgent cases when he does have to switch right back to his mage persona but it isn't for long.

Hongjoong gets accustomed to the weird impasse they've reached with the curse situation.

Perhaps, that is why Eden's call feels like it comes out of the blue, despite all of his heart and soul hoping for that confirmation which would bring peace to the man he loves. 

"Hongjoong, we found the witch."

Eden's voice is grim but it's also triumphant, not devoid of all hope. 

The man is notorious for his indifference but Hongjoong hears the victorious undertone and knows in his gut that they have a shot.

It takes him a little time to process that Eden has just revealed that the person who cursed Seonghwa has been found and suddenly, Hongjoong wants nothing more than to portal to the Council headquarters and give them a piece of mind but only after he makes sure the curse is expelled. 

It's a witch.

Someone who is, magically, much less superior to a mage like Hongjoong but the devastation that they've caused to him and the ones he loves, the sheer gruelling ordeal that the past month has been because of the hatred one person cherished in them makes his blood boil. It's easier to fall into the hands of vengeance and let him lose himself but he remembers Seonghwa and it isn't worth never being able to trust himself to touch him.

"Where is she?" Hongjoong asks, honestly curious.

"Hwanwoong and Junhee just found her. They won't be portalling back. It's dangerous," Eden halts, mumbling something to someone on the other end of the line before there's the sound of his piercings grazing the phone, "There's something wrong with her though. We haven't figured out what yet. I'll know more once she's brought here."

_ Karma _, Hongjoong thinks, but he also keeps his fingers crossed that nothing happens till she can remove the curse which has been placed on Seonghwa.

Hongjoong hums, throat parched and sticky at the emotion that threatens to clamp his voice shut.

The solution that had been an imaginary speck in the distance has finally materialized before them.

"Hongjoong, I called both to let you know about this and to ask you to do something," Eden doesn't sound particularly worried, just serious, which tended to be his permanent disposition. 

"Tell me, hyung," Hongjoong prompts.

"I need you to take Seonghwa to the enchanted river in Daegu. Just the two of you."

Hongjoong doesn't understand the necessity of dragging Seonghwa so far away at this juncture. It's not like Daegu is a continent away but the suggested journey is still something that doesn't fit into the intricacies of the moment. 

Hongjoong has heard about the enchanted river from Yujin once, when the elder was asked to guard the entrance for a month when the Jeon family's heir who was in charge of the place and its protection had fallen sick from something Hongjoong recalls as magical poisoning. 

You needed permission from the supernatural authorities to enter the river. More so, the river needed to allow you to feel it.

And no one had ever heard about mundane humans being permitted to touch the river, much less take a dip in it. 

Also, the fact that Eden has asked them to go alone when any of the others would easily accompany them to Daegu if he asked, seemed suspicious.

"Is there a purpose for this visit?"

Eden is silent for a moment.

"Yes. Both of the curses are deadly, Yeonjun told me that together, they can affect his soul too. The river is supposed to help heal the body and cleanse the soul of whoever takes a dip in it with good intentions. I think we both know that Seonghwa has that in spades. It'll be good for him to be blessed by the water before the curse is removed. It's hard to get permission for eight people to visit the river in one day. I had to pull some serious strings just to get permission for the two of you."

Hongjoong is touched by the concern Eden is showing for Seonghwa, someone whom the elder doesn't know so well, at least not as much as he knows Hongjoong. 

The elder had taken care of him when no one stepped in, had agreed to take him in over an unspoken promise on a rainy day. 

He didn't have to but he had done it.

And with the kind of things the other mage has been doing over the years, right until this moment, Hongjoong knows he can never pay him back, not in this lifetime, not even the forever he knows he has if he decides to let it happen. 

"I'll take him then. Thank you, hyung," Hongjoong says, hoping to all Gods that he sounds as grateful as he feels.

"Hongjoong," Eden hesitates.

Hongjoong waits with bated breath for the other to form the words he's clearly struggling with. 

"I was under pressure from the Council. That's why I had to ask Yunho. I already sensed that you were agitated but I needed confirmation before I could do anything to help him. No one knew what was going on so I thought maybe you were acting up. When the board called me in, I didn't have a choice because I didn't have proof. I'm sorry about that."

Hongjoong had known that something must have happened. 

The Council didn't hesitate with playing dirty in any of the matters they meddled in. In spite of the qualms Hongjoong had with said body's functioning, there was a code they upheld which prioritised numbers. It wasn't fair, maybe, in fact, Hongjoong knew it definitely _ was _ unfair because one person could mean the _ world _ to someone, he knew that more than most, and putting one against thousands and prioritising the latter because there were more people involved didn't seem like the best route to adopt to hold close their motto of protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. 

Hongjoong is biased but the greater good had never made much sense to him anyway and he doubts it ever will. 

Eden though, is a whole different story on a plane of existence leagues away from Hongjoong's cosmos.

They do have their realms where they're one and the same but more often than not, they're different, vastly so. 

So really, Hongjoong understands and Eden doesn't have to apologize, not to him but the man is compulsively ethical, greatly so.

"I get it, you don't have to apologize," Hongjoong assures. 

Eden doesn't voice an agreement. 

"Come home when all of this is over. All of you. We miss you."

Hongjoong smiles, phone pressed against his cheek, the collective pronoun implying that Yujin will be returning from Japan soon.

"We will," Hongjoong promises, feeling a little like a kid getting to finally see his parents after a long and arduous day. 

***

Hongjoong feels his lips stretch over his teeth as his gaze flickers to Seonghwa who has his head leaning on the glass, eyes switching between open and closed, sleep weighing in on his eyelids.

"I told you that you were going to feel sleepy," Hongjoong says, turning the wheel to the left to let the goods truck overtake them.

Seonghwa makes a pathetic whine in response before he sits up slowly, stretching like a cat, his long arms bending as they hit the roof of the car.

"Should have listened to you," Seonghwa agrees, putting one hand atop Hongjoong's on the gear stick.

Hongjoong's magic had been pulsing with excitement all throughout the day. Yunho had informed him that it's probably the river's mention that had his magic worked up, positively. Hongjoong had worked that out himself but the vocal confirmation was satisfying. 

But Seonghwa's mere touch as innocent as it is, sends his magic to a frenzy. He pulls over at the sensory overload, not bothering with the indicator lights due to the move being out of the blue. Seonghwa flinches at the sudden swerve and takes his hand off, Hongjoong's pounding heart slowing again at the contact breaking off.

Hongjoong lets his eyes fall shut, one hand blindly turning the key to turn off the ignition, taking deep breaths, his magic doing freaking _ somersaults _ inside him, as if it has suddenly realized something Hongjoong doesn't know yet, as if it is fun to watch Hongjoong grope around in the dark, curious and desperate. 

"Joong?" Seonghwa calls, voice soft, sounding more awake than he did moments ago. 

He extends a hand to touch him and Hongjoong jumps away at the hand, sticking himself against the door to veer off from the touch.

Seonghwa takes his hand away, looking utterly destroyed.

Hongjoong scrambles to clarify.

"Hwa, it's just…" Hongjoong's breath quickens before he dials it down, getting the upper hand over his magic, "sensory overload," he finishes.

Seonghwa makes a drawn-out sound of understanding. 

"What triggered it?" Seonghwa's voice is a little playful this time.

"The river conversation started it, my magic is euphoric but you're making it…" Hongjoong screws his eyes shut, aware of exactly what's happening.

Seonghwa laughs.

"Am I making it worse, Hongjoong?" Seonghwa has a leer on his face, like he can't quite help but look at Hongjoong like he's the best dish on a buffet, all wrapped and ready to be stripped.

"_ Yes _," Hongjoong admits with difficulty, not flinching when Seonghwa seeks silent permission with his gaze and links their hands together. 

The feeling is amazing. Hongjoong colours as his memory brings him back to a moment two months ago when his magic had gotten worked up to the point that Seonghwa's presence had made him moan loudly and fall against him.

In front of the _ whole _ cafe.

Populated with people of _ all _ ages. 

It had been embarrassing but they had avoided talking about it in order to still allow Hongjoong the guise of thinking that he is still the calm and collected one.

"Can I kiss you?"

In the time Hongjoong has taken to zone out to that moment with the searing heat he felt at the cafe which ended in a heated union behind their front door, Seonghwa has removed the seat belt and leaned in, the question whispered against Hongjoong's mouth, their lips touching a little, sending sparks down his veins making his body tremble like a leaf for a good second.

Hongjoong doesn't use his words, falling into the kiss, Seonghwa's one hand fixed on one side of his face, cupping his cheek and the other slipping under his shirt and squeezing his hipbone gently. 

Hongjoong moans into the other's mouth, Seonghwa responding with an airy gasp and growl, sounding equal parts desire and frustration.

Hongjoong's magic burns like molten gold, shifting between simmering and raging heat, dialling his senses to eleven at the intimacy aided with concrete touches. 

Seonghwa pulls away just as Hongjoong is about to free himself from the seat belt but not before he bites his earlobe, working his mouth over the myriad of piercings housed on Hongjoong's ear. 

He places a hand on his chest as if to stop both Hongjoong and himself.

"I can't…" Seonghwa's lips are wet and red and he just looks so fucking _ hot _ like that, debauched and Hongjoong swears that he must look worse, judging by how blown Seonghwa's pupils are as they bear into his soul like he wants to devour him whole.

"God, you look so fucking delectable but _ no _ ," he shakes his head as if convincing himself that whatever he's thinking is crazy, "I'm _ not _ gonna fuck you in our car on a freeway."

Hongjoong chokes on his spit, a nervous laugh escaping him at Seonghwa's crude words, head still in the clouds at how they could still ruin each other like this, how even the barest of touches, keeping in consideration everything they've done physically, still drives them both crazy like this. 

God, Hongjoong loves this man _ so much _.

The tension of the moment is broken when Hongjoong's phone rings, Mingi's name flashing on the screen.

Seonghwa grabs it when Hongjoong gestures at him to go ahead but Seonghwa shakes his head and puts it on speaker.

"Hyung?"

Seonghwa grabs the seatbelt and pulls it over him, concern overtaking his flushed face at the honorific uttered with anxiousness and fear.

The conversation which follows is filled to the brim with nervous energy and Hongjoong wonders if the charm he gave to the younger isn't helping him with keeping his emotions in check but Seonghwa takes the lead and calms Mingi down without ever stating the words directly. Hongjoong should, perhaps, drive in the time his boyfriend calms Mingi down but he takes the time instead, to stare at the perfection that Seonghwa is, ebony hair unstyled and floppy on his head, pink lips soft, a tad darker still from their ministrations moments ago. 

When Mingi hangs up, significantly calmer, Hongjoong is still reeling from the sensory overload but he does know that they have to reach there soon so he turns the key and shoots a smile at Seonghwa. 

"Want me to drive?"

Seonghwa asks when Hongjoong closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

Hongjoong shakes his head, he needed something to occupy his head and his hands.

Traffic and steering wheels were the second-best options.

Hongjoong merely smiles to himself at thoughts of the first option.

Eden had said that an envoy from the Jeon clan who worked for the Council would come to get them. They were instructed to wait at a nondescript diner which also happened to be the closest civilian establishment to the river reachable by mundane means.

Eden had warned against using a portal but Hongjoong thinks he wouldn't have used one anyway. It had been quite a while since he had gone on a drive with Seonghwa. Maybe it wasn't the time or the place but the fact that Eden had found the witch was substantial enough for him to unload a bit of the stress he had been feeling for the past month or so.

A drive, honestly, seemed like the best option.

Seonghwa pokes him in the rib with a lean finger as if it is punishment for zoning out with him right next to him and it's only how accustomed he's grown to the other man's touches and the control he's gathered while Seonghwa conversed with Mingi that he doesn't drive straight into the sedan keeping pace with them.

Hongjoong raises an eyebrow at Seonghwa in question.

"I'm going to roll the window down," he mumbles as if it justifies the imprint of a finger he feels on his ribcage.

He's only vaguely kidding.

It's a good thing that he's driving though, because with how cute Seonghwa looks as he says it, knowing Hongjoong hates it when one window is down and the other closed, it makes him want to tackle him into an embrace and kiss him silly.

The wind hits Seonghwa in the face and at the speed Hongjoong is going, his hair being blown away from his face shouldn't inspire so much awe in him.

But Hongjoong's weak.

He's so damn _ weak _ for Seonghwa.

It's ironic in a way too because he doesn't think anything in his life has made him as strong as Seonghwa does.

***

When they finally reach the diner it's close to four in the evening. City traffic had slowed Hongjoong down considerably. They didn't stop for lunch, figuring that if they were going to wait for the envoy at an eatery, there wasn't a point in making a pit stop along the way.

Seonghwa puts an arm around his waist and pulls him close as he rounds the car, Hongjoong going willingly along with the move. Seonghwa grazes his hip bone with his fingers, leaning down to press a kiss against his wind-beaten hair. 

The sigh Seonghwa lets out after is barely audible but Hongjoong hears how content he is anyway. 

The diner isn't the kind of place Hongjoong would choose for them but despite it, he likes the ambience. It's a decent place, clean and well lit with the exception of some chipping on the granite at the countertop Hongjoong assumes works as a drinks counter. 

Hongjoong can tell that the place is old too, the floor mosaic threatening to begin chipping sometime soon, the walls freshly painted a deep auburn in a neat effort to hide whatever paint had begun to be snuffed out by dirt and grime but the vibe is pleasant, warm, like autumn and bygones.

It's a place suspended in time and with the way his magic rises to all its glory inside him, he can tell that there are years of history in here.

There aren't many people around save for two teenagers who seem to have wisdom way beyond their age, the aura similar to what Yeosang emits on a daily basis. 

Vampires, Hongjoong concludes. 

There's a girl working on her laptop, glasses askew on the bridge of her nose and it's easy to tell that she's human.

Maybe she's here for the free WiFi. 

Seonghwa drags him to a corner table just as Hongjoong is done looking around. They leave the opposite seats empty, sitting huddled close together.

The wooden table is cool against Hongjoong's skin. He thumbs a text to Eden as Seonghwa orders for the both of them.

"This is nice," Seonghwa says, lips red from the spicy bulgogi he ordered for himself. Hongjoong resists the urge to kiss them. 

"Yeah?" Hongjoong asks and it isn't really a question. 

Seonghwa likes to go on dates but with their schedules, dates often involve just homemade dinner or take out. The most they do is accompany the gang to the club. Even when they plan dinners, it's an eight person thing. Hongjoong doesn't mind it, neither does Seonghwa but sometimes, it's hard to find time alone because they love the rest too much to ever ask them for some time to themselves. They are good at sensing things though. Hongjoong can, off the top of his head, pick out at least four times when either Mingi or Yeosang dragged the others out so they could be together in the past two months alone.

When all this is over, Hongjoong thinks, he is going to take Seonghwa out to every date-worthy destination in the city.

The waiter is a young man, perhaps slightly older than them, with a box-shaped breezy smile and eyes that turn into crescents. When he comes with the folder with the bill and places it on the table, the smile has changed routes, mischief twinkling in the depths of brown.

“Heaven of the heathen, has a mouth but is eaten, ocean and waves beaten, the lifeline of Eden,” He sits down opposite them, irises turning to ones resembling those of a cat.

“Are you the envoy?” Hongjoong asks, shifting a little and leaning forward so that he’s obscuring the view of Seonghwa as much as possible, no matter how futile the move is if it were a threat. Seonghwa places a hand on his thigh, rubbing circles on the fabric of his jeans.

The waiter merely grins wider, repeating the same riddle.

Hongjoong phrases the same question in three different ways, only being on the receiving end of a grin that is stretched maybe a little too wide to be natural. Seonghwa sighs and says, “River.”

Hongjoong internally facepalms but it’s pride that shows its face first as he straightens up and puts a hand on Seonghwa’s thigh to appreciate his quick thinking.

“Smart,” the waiter says as if he’s impressed.

It sounds a lot like approval too, not that Hongjoong or Seonghwa asked for it.

The man gets up, drumming his fingers on the table with aquamarine coloured, oddly sharp nails, leaning down to stare into Seonghwa’s eyes for a moment before he straightens up with an eyebrow quirked.

“The envoy will be here within an hour. Enjoy,” he says, walking away, hips swaying perhaps a little more than necessary, his whole demeanour shifting and Hongjoong suddenly has a clue what the man is supposed to be but he keeps the word to himself.

“That was weird,” Seonghwa states.

Hongjoong nods but doesn’t add anything to contribute to the thought.

When the envoy finally slides into their booth about half an hour later, Hongjoong feels a spark of recognition. He’s young, dressed in all black, a familiar star emblazoned on his coat.

The man’s features are fox-like, sharp, eyes long.

He doesn’t seem to be the most friendly person out there so Hongjoong is surprised when the man leans forward and stares right into Seonghwa’s eyes, sitting back a moment later with an odd look as if he has found something Hongjoong hasn’t yet.

Hongjoong glances at Seonghwa who merely shrugs at him, equally confused.

“Ready?” He asks and Hongjoong feels like he has been electrocuted at hearing the man’s deep voice, almost velvety in its texture.

There aren’t any pleasantries exchanged and it isn’t the first time Hongjoong has met someone who got right down to business in their world but the detachment, the almost clinical nature of it, doesn’t sit particularly well with him, not when Seonghwa is right there with him. The man had been scarily close to bursting into Seonghwa’s personal space mere moments ago and he hasn’t provided a reason yet, the least he could do is give his name because Hongjoong was certain he already knew theirs.

Hongjoong contemplates asking before he shoves the questions into a box and throws it away.

They’re led to the doorway which leads to the kitchen but then the envoy takes a sharp left, a flight of stairs going down to an empty room coming into view.

It’s a portal room, Hongjoong can tell by the way sigils are drawn using pure magic, invisible to the naked eye.

“Don’t move when I do the spell unless you want to end up in limbo,” the man says, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Hongjoong suppresses a chuckle at how downright offended Seonghwa looks, dark eyebrows knitted in a frown.

“Are all the people you work with pricks like him?” Seonghwa mouths as the man goes through the gestures of a complicated portal spell, one he has seen San use only during emergencies.

Hongjoong shrugs, gaining a glare from the envoy, slightly hostile.

It barely takes a fraction of a second, and suddenly they’re in the midst of a forest, Hongjoong moving quickly to catch Seonghwa as he stumbles forward. 

Moving through portals was difficult if the magic used to create the interdimensional highway wasn’t familiar. Even Hongjoong felt winded by the sudden movement.

The envoy doesn’t look back or ask them to follow, his boots making squelching noises as he wades through the tangle of trees, the forest bed cluttered with fallen leaves in various states of disintegration, wet as if it had been raining mere moments ago. Hongjoong catches Seonghwa shiver from the cold despite being layered up in two coats and a sweater.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned.

Seonghwa nods, a small smile lighting his features, before turning into a frown as they follow the envoy’s non-verbal directions and quick pace.

The envoy halts in his tracks, hands glowing bright green as he puts them up against an invisible barrier, two gigantic doors opening in the middle of the forest.

An intimidating two-men tall stone barrier towers in front of them, enough authority seeping out of the edifice to make any stranger stop in his track and contemplate whether to carry on or not depending on their intentions. No one could miss the white globes of light that levitated over the wall, lined up like soldiers in a parade not for a battle but for the purpose of illuminating the area with its luminescence and looking at it Hongjoong thinks that there’s more to that than what meets the eye. The stone barricade housed the unsuspecting climbing ivy and hedge bindweed that so casually covered the stone structure.

The archway over the wrought iron gate had thickly grown honeysuckle twining and looping over the frame of the arch; the bright drooping reddish-orange flowers giving the evergreen foliage the kind of burst of colour it so badly required. The Celtic knot of protection on the gate was unmissable too pointing towards the fact that someone took their sweet time to make sure the place was safe and well-warded. 

The lofty gates are the barrier between them and the river, Hongjoong realizes.

He tilts his head to the side to see Seonghwa gape in awe.

He draws his gaze away when the envoy begins to chant something under his breath, the gates opening enough for them to slip through.

There’s a garden in front of them, instead of the river Hongjoong imagines, illuminated by the same white globes hovering over them, the faded sky of the evening creating a contrast. Various kinds of flowers and plants cover the front of the mansion, royal colours blending in seamlessly on both sides of the tiled path which leads straight to the wooden door of the mansion Hongjoong assumes is where the Jeon family sentinels reside. It looked like they had entered some sort of orchard; rounded up by flowering trees on the extreme edge near the walls. The globes of light were right above the wall, making it difficult to recognize the trees which stood thick and entwining.

Jongho would have loved this place, Hongjoong finds himself thinking.

“The river will appear to you if you’re destined to see it. Follow the fireflies,” the envoy says, a hand raised in a gesture that says halt as he walks leisurely towards the mansion.

Hongjoong sighs to himself. 

Were _ all _ the guards as prickly as this one?

“He doesn’t seem like he likes his job,” Seonghwa observes, like it’s familiar to him and Hongjoong is confused.

Hongjoong is about to make a sound of agreement and ask him why he phrased it like that with that look when Seonghwa speaks again, “Or maybe he’s just like you. You hate people.”

That explained the familiarity.

Hongjoong really should take offence but he only makes a face. He can’t bring himself to deny the statement fully, however.

“I don’t… hate people,” he says, and it’s a weak defence but it’s all he has at the moment, magic over-excited surrounded so close to ancient powers. Seonghwa shakes his head in false agreement, Hongjoong levelling a glare before he gives in, “Okay, maybe I do but I love San and Wooyoung and Mingi and Yunho and our whole gang.”

It’s Seonghwa’s turn to make a face.

“And you… I love you, Park Seonghwa,” Hongjoong whispers, leaning into Seonghwa’s personal space.

“Sap,” Seonghwa whispers back, flustered.

Hongjoong blows air on his face and runs a hand through his hair, gesturing for Seonghwa to follow him, a swarm of fireflies glowing in front of them.

“He said we’d find it only if we’re destined to,” Seonghwa says and it’s the first time he has sounded hesitant today.

Hongjoong is antsy too, despite his magic practically thrumming with happiness.

The journey was great. The place is great.

But the entire reason why they ever had to come here, even with the solution being a mere day away, hits different.

“We are destined to,” Hongjoong assures and they aren’t empty words.

His magic tells him that they _ are _ destined to.

Seonghwa gazes on for a long moment and starts forward again as if whatever is on Hongjoong’s face is enough to convince him.

When the swarm of fireflies split ways, the area around them is filled with trees.

_ Forward _, the forest whispers. 

It’s rare for it to use words but Eden had asked him to trust everything in this plane of existence so Hongjoong holds onto that and links his fingers with Seonghwa’s, the other man’s confusion at the fireflies’ departure clearing.

The river is a ribbon of midnight blue, the sky darker above it than when Hongjoong had gazed at it mere moments ago through the gaps in the thick canopy of the trees. The trees clear out enough for them to stand at the edge of the bank and not fall into the dark water.

Hongjoong hears a myriad of whispers as the water flows in front of them, a sacred melody beneath the splashes. His magic calms down and the ball of anticipation which had been jagged in his chest unfurls slowly.

“It’s so beautiful,” Seonghwa’s voice is more a breath than an actual sound.

“Are you scared?” Hongjoong asks, eyes set on the vast depths of the river. He can’t see anything, it’s just black water, almost viscous in consistency. He knows it isn’t black because of the water in itself, it’s the riverbed and the sky but in place of his magic calming down finally, he feels anxiety kick in again.

“Yeah,” Seonghwa says.

“I’ll be right here,” Hongjoong assures.

“I know you will be.”

Seonghwa shrugs out of both his coats, handing them to Hongjoong and leans down to untie his shoelaces to get rid of his shoes. His feet are as pale as the rest of him and in the dark of the night, surrounded by tenebrosity and hesitation, Seonghwa glows, not magical and golden or purple, but real and tangible and present.

He’s about to remove his navy blue sweater when Hongjoong puts a hand on his chest.

“Keep it on,” he says.

Seonghwa tilts his head.

“I’m going to trail water into our car,” Seonghwa points out.

Hongjoong shakes his head at how much foresight Seonghwa always had. He was about to take a dip in an ancient river he had no idea of and he was thinking of wet car seats.

“I can help with that,” Hongjoong assures, his hand which is not holding the other’s coats waving in the air, sparks at his fingertips.

Seonghwa nods, finally convinced and walks forward, pausing before his feet touch the water.

“I love you,” he turns his head.

Hongjoong melts, eyes stinging suddenly for some reason.

“I love you too,” he murmurs back.

Seonghwa turns away and walks into the water, the river’s flow being disrupted, splashing against his body and continuing on like it never touched him.

Hongjoong watches Seonghwa take a deep breath and sink into the river.

The few seconds it takes for him to come back up is filled with fear, Hongjoong’s mind desperately putting out possibilities after possibilities, not a single one good.

He is about to pull his hair out when Seonghwa rises back up, shaking his head and coughing water out of his mouth. 

Hongjoong lets out a deep breath as his boyfriend turns back around.

He closes his eyes to calm himself and opens them to see the water around Seonghwa rise behind him and fall on him with a huge splash, Seonghwa’s eyes widening in panic before he’s gone.

_ Gone. _

“Seonghwa!” He screams, his voice breaking on the last syllable.

Hongjoong scrambles forward, throwing the coats from his hand because Seonghwa was right there and then, he was gone.

_ No, no, no. _

His magic stays silent. He runs forward because he is not going to lose the man he loved to a stupid river but a hand catches him by the shoulder just before his shoes touch the water.

“Patience, Hongjoong,” he hears a newly familiar deep voice say, stern.

He spins on his feet, the wet mud splattering on the envoy’s dark boots from how quick the movement is.

Hongjoong sees red at how peaceful the man looks. It’s the intense rage he feels which makes him pull the other in by his collar and shake him.

“Patience? What the fuck did you do to him?” He yells, the other man doesn’t even flinch, gripping Hongjoong’s wrists with firm hands and pulling his collar free.

“The river cleanses you. Not at your time or pace but at its own time and space. If she took your lover in, she will return him to you. The undestined are never meant to find the river.”

Hongjoong doesn’t calm down but he listens closely, breaths still coming out in quick puffs.

The question must show on his face because the envoy’s face softens slightly, a barely noticeable change.

“The river doesn’t appear if the destined are accompanied by the undestined. He will be returned unharmed to you. Don’t fret.”

Hongjoong wonders if the happiness and the mostly stress-free day had been a gift from the universe to him because it had seen this particular twist and decided he deserved some peace for some time at least. He wishes he’d seen this coming. 

“What do we do now?” Hongjoong asks, feeling a little empty.

“Wait,” the envoy answers and when Hongjoong sits down on the mud, thoughts of how he’s ruining his jeans only a distant image, the envoy stares at him.

“_ We _ wait,” the envoy says, the stress on the _we_ not going unnoticed.

Hongjoong spends the hours they spend waiting to think about every single time he has made Seonghwa wait for him. It probably wasn’t as painful for Seonghwa like it is for him now, with the other underwater but even the slightest amount of hurt he’s caused the other seemed unforgivable now.

He had fucked up so much, so many times and he kept doing it and Seonghwa hadn’t complained.

Not once.

The river rumbles in front of them, effectively pulling Hongjoong away from the self-deprecation rant taking place in his head. He gets up, the envoy following him. Earlier, when he saw the river for the first time, the water had been moving smoothly onward without a fuss but now it traverses violently, the trees rustling and the ground beneath them shaking at the force.

A red globe of light rises from the river and Hongjoong stares at it, the scarlet so bright it hurts to look at it, his eyes protesting against the borderline offensive brightness.

“Close your eyes,” the envoy directs.

Hongjoong does.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to Seonghwa stumbling forward into him, the other’s frame shaking with the cold. Hongjoong puts his arms around him and tightens them, willing his magic to dry the other up. He’s pretty sure he’s going to have a lifetime of nightmares on the image of Seonghwa disappearing with the water.

Seonghwa doesn’t step away from him even as his clothes are dry and warmed up courtesy of his magic, still leaning the majority of his weight on Hongjoong like he trusts him to not let him fall apart.

“I was so scared,” Seonghwa confesses, his lips attached to Hongjoong’s pulse on his neck.

Hongjoong feels tears begin to gather at seeing the other’s wet eyelashes. Seonghwa is taller than him by a good few centimetres but he’s made himself small enough to fit into Hongjoong’s arms.

“I was too,” he replies.

In his peripheral vision, Hongjoong catches the envoy smile serenely at them before he directs his gaze back upon the river, the smile present as if he was conversing with the body of flowing water in front of them.

“Are you okay?” Hongjoong asks, mentally kicking himself for that not being the first thing he asked.

Seonghwa nods, tightening his hold before he lets go and then he’s diving back into the hug again and if Hongjoong didn’t have the habit of standing with his feet almost entirely screwed to the floor, he’s pretty sure they would have tumbled into the mud together.

Seonghwa laughs against his neck, it’s a giggle if Hongjoong’s being honest because he knows what Seonghwa’s laughs sound like to make a clear distinction and the sound runs through his body, putting every nerve ending on fire and tickle the skin of his neck.

“I feel so good, Hongjoong… it’s like I’m born again,” he says, right into the shell of Hongjoong’s ear, so close his teeth graze the piercings on it.

The constant emotional whiplash Seonghwa gives him, Hongjoong swears he is never going to get used to it.

“Time to go, lovebirds,” the envoy speaks up and Hongjoong keeps in the laughter at the scoff Seonghwa lets out.

When they’re finally led back to the diner, Seonghwa asks Hongjoong to wait near the entrance, keys clutched in his hand as he walks to the parking space having convinced Hongjoong that he’ll drive this time, leaving the envoy and him to hover awkwardly outside the door.

“How long?” The man asks, the question obviously about how long they’ve been together and Hongjoong wonders if he shouldn’t answer before he decides otherwise.

“A little over five years.”

The envoy hums noncommittally.

“His family?” It’s not the usual follow-up question and Hongjoong wonders if he’s missing a piece of the puzzle he’s supposed to have already.

“They’re not… he doesn’t have family,” Hongjoong answers, feeling glad that the envoy hadn’t asked the question in the presence of Seonghwa because even if they evaded the topic somehow, it would have left Seonghwa sad for the whole day.

The envoy hums again, this time in understanding and keeps quiet for the next few minutes.

“Keep him close,” he says, looking into Hongjoong’s eyes just as Seonghwa drives in, and it isn’t a threat, merely a statement that sounds like a motto the envoy expects Hongjoong to keep in mind.

Hongjoong nods because keeping Seonghwa close is the _ easiest _thing he could do in the world, only second to loving him and when he turns to wave at the man after settling into the passenger’s seat, he has already disappeared.

Maybe a word of gratitude was in order, Hongjoong thinks.

Seonghwa seems to have arrived at the same conclusion, “Maybe we should have thanked him.”

Hongjoong looks at the familiar star on the upper wooden panel of the door sill and smiles.

“I think he knows.”

***

Contrary to what Hongjoong thinks what Seonghwa would want when they’ll finally go see Eden, he completely shocks him with a request.

“Are you sure? They’re going to want to be there for you, Hwa,” Hongjoong asks, worried, adjusting his head on his lap to look straight up at him.

“I’m sure. Having them there would be nice but I won’t be able to concentrate on anything, in fact, I’ll be more stressed if I have to be worried about seven people I love threatening to rip someone’s throat in one room,” Seonghwa says, running his hands through Hongjoong’s hair.

Hongjoong notices that he said seven.

“What about me?”

Seonghwa shakes head, “I want you there. I can handle stressing out about you because I know you,” Seonghwa says.

“You know them too,” Hongjoong states.

“I do, but it’s different,” Seonghwa says like it’s a secret.

Hongjoong wants to roll his eyes because he’s sure that everyone except Seonghwa knows exactly how different it is.

The decision doesn’t bode well with any of them but instead of Wooyoung whom Hongjoong had expected to throw a loud tantrum, it’s actually Yeosang who has some choice words.

“I’ll rip her throat out, with my teeth,” Yeosang says, calm but his eyes blazing with rage.

Seonghwa subtly juts his chin at the vampire next to Hongjoong as if saying _ see, Exhibit A _.

It’s hard to convince them to not come along but they draw a line at the demand to stay home.

“We won’t come in and we’ll try our best to behave ourselves but we’ll be in the headquarters,” Mingi says, like it’s the best bargain he can get them.

Seonghwa sends a long-suffering look towards Hongjoong but he shrugs to say _ What can I do? _

When Eden finally calls them in on the much-awaited day, two days after their return from Daegu, Hongjoong is literally vibrating with anxiety. Yeonjun’s magic had begun to wear off after the cleansing and in the span of two days, Seonghwa had bled from his nose thrice. 

Seonghwa was in high spirits though, worried but also happy even if Hongjoong wasn’t.

To turn the frying pan into the fucking fire, Eden had also refused to reveal anything else regarding the witch or her reasons for cursing Seonghwa, merely asking Hongjoong to wait and to be patient.

“We have her in solitary because she’s…,” Eden pauses as they walk down the opulent hallway but it’s not concern, rather a lack of words to convey what he intends that causes the sudden verbal halt, “I’ll let you see for yourself,” he finishes, leading Hongjoong and Seonghwa into the stairs in the Council headquarters which led to the enchanted holding cells where they kept high-risk deviants.

Eden sends Seonghwa a small smile when they finally reach the section where the witch is confined.

“She will remove it. We will make her but I need you, both of you to be prepared for some revelations.”

It doesn’t sound particularly ominous, Eden doesn’t look worried too but Hongjoong’s magic flits around inside and turns him into even more of a nervous mess, lending fuel to the anger that’s been simmering for the past month.

_ Revelations _, that didn’t sound good too but the curse, Hongjoong just needed it out of Seonghwa. He could deal with everything else.

Eden touches the padlock, it’s only a superficial article, Hongjoong knows, and the metal door swings open.

The witch is sitting inside a circle, elaborate sigils drawn on the floor but what catches his attention is not her burgundy hair or her lack of remorse but how her left arm and leg are almost entirely charred.

She laughs in their faces when her gaze lands on them and Hongjoong feels like he has seen her before, somewhere. Hongjoong unconsciously steps in front of Seonghwa but Eden throws him a look.

“She can’t do anything to him,” he says.

_ Nothing more _goes unsaid.

He briefly wonders if her charred limbs are what he meant by _ see for yourself _.

“I don’t know you,” Hongjoong says, stepping close to the circle and the witch crawls closer to the edge.

“But you will remember me,” she says, laughing and lifting her hands up as if to clap before she remembers the state of her arm.

“We don’t have time for your games. Remove the curse.” Eden’s voice drips with authority, Hongjoong has never had this particular tone directed at him so he isn’t as affected but he can see the witch bend under the command.

“I promised I would. But I need to tell him why,” she says, suddenly a pathetic figure on the floor.

“Kim Hongjoong, you’ve wronged me greatly,” she looks at him like he’s the thing she scorns the most in the world and with the curses she’s placed on the man he loves, he knows he is.

“I don’t know you,” he repeats, keeping his voice level.

“Remember the swamp witch family you burned down three months ago?” Hongjoong does, so he nods. “That was my family. My husband and my sister burned to ashes with your magic.”

Hongjoong feels Seonghwa’s gasp like a knife to his heart but he knows Seonghwa will lose sympathy after he hears the whole story. 

Hongjoong remembers the day though because he rarely ever forgets the ones his magic kills, no matter how much they deserve it.

“They took away fifty-seven innocent children and they tortured and sacrificed them to the darkness. Mercy was the last thing on my mind when your husband ripped through the little girl’s neck like a maniac, right in front of me. I don’t regret it.”

Hongjoong remembers stumbling back home, Hwanwoong and Youngjo dropping him off because they’d been concerned at how lost he was at seeing two more kids die right in front of him. 

The Council had sent a team of eleven and they had had clear orders to kill, not retrieve.

Hongjoong had merely followed orders. 

“He had orders,” Eden says and at the look the witch sends him, he grits his teeth and clarifies, “_ Clear _ orders to kill. Issued by the board members of the Council.”

“You’re scum,” the witch says, spitting but the splat of saliva hits the invisible barrier and slides down.

“How did you curse him?” Hongjoong asks, not rising to the bait.

Hongjoong remembers Yeonjun mentioning direct contact was required to place the draining curse and it takes a second but the reason why the witch had seemed familiar at first sight suddenly seems so clear.

“The club,” he whispers to himself and watches as the witch rolls around on the floor, cackling in delight.

“Hongjoong?” Seonghwa calls, not yet understanding what Hongjoong has figured out.

“The club. Remember that time you lost your amulet?” Seonghwa nods, “I already knew you’d been cursed there but I never connected it to her. She was tending the bar that night.”

The witch’s laughs die down.

“You didn’t even notice when our hands brushed as I gave the drink to you. You were so lost in looking at him like a pathetic man.”

Hongjoong’s blood boils.

“Is that why you taunted us with the cards and the bouquets?”

The witch cackles again.

“None of you noticed the curse. Even he didn’t,” she says, pointing a finger at Seonghwa, “It took a while for the curse to show effects which was strange and by then, I had already cast the memory hex too.”

Hongjoong closes his eyes at the confirmation that the curse had been cast weeks before they’d noticed. They saw the anomalies but not enough thought had been given to them as being associated with a curse.

He had failed Seonghwa and he would atone for it for the rest of his life.

“Enough talk. Remove the curse,” Eden orders, as if identifying the futility of letting the conversation go on and Hongjoong feels Seonghwa’s hand encase his, a vain attempt to dim the gold threatening to spill from his hands.

The witch leers from where she sprawled on the ground before she sits up and levels them a glare. Eden raises his hand and she shuts her eyes immediately, chanting something under her breath.

Seonghwa loses his balance the moment she starts chanting. Hongjoong cradles him to his chest but stays silent.

A few minutes later, Hongjoong feels golden tendrils grow from his body and cover Seonghwa, even Eden looking on in utter awe, gaze soft.

Seonghwa’s eyes which had slipped shut some moments ago blink open, his face lighting up with a small smile.

“It’s done,” the witch declares.

Eden steps near Seonghwa and places a star he takes from his pockets on his forehead, closing his eyes.

“She’s telling the truth,” Eden confirms after a long minute.

Hongjoong finally lets Seonghwa sit up and embrace him properly, his heart pounding at the implications.

Seonghwa wasn’t _ cursed _ anymore. 

He wasn’t _ dying _.

He wouldn’t forget Hongjoong.

Seonghwa was going to spend all of eternity with Hongjoong.

_ Seonghwa was free. _

“You’re not going to let her walk free, right? Hongjoong questions.

Eden shakes his head, the witch banging on the barrier with her hands at the words.

“You promised!” She screeches.

Hongjoong feels his eyes go wide at the realization.

“Hyung, did you lie?” 

Eden nods, “There was no other way. We promised to heal her and then, let her go in six months.”

“What happened to her hand and leg?” Hongjoong asks, figuring that the offer to heal had come from those injuries.

Eden hesitates like words stuck in his mouth could never come out.

“Hyung?” Seonghwa prompts this time, gaze earnest.

“It’s because of you,” he says, finally, like a confession.

“What do you mean it’s because of him?” Hongjoong asks, clutching Seonghwa’s hand in his.

“Hongjoong-ah,” Eden hasn’t called him that in years, “your boyfriend is part phoenix and part warlock.”

Hongjoong feels Seonghwa freeze just as he does too. The witch gasps from inside the circle as if realization has finally befallen her.

“She cursed him and his powers were awakened. You can’t curse a phoenix without repercussions. She’ll die even if she has repealed the curse now. That’s how it works,” Eden explains, slowly, like he knows it’s a lot of information to take in at once. The witch begins wailing in the background but it all sounds like white noise to Hongjoong.

“How… I didn’t even..” Seonghwa trails off.

“You don’t know your parents, Seonghwa. You were found at the orphanage steps when you were three years old. Both warlocks and phoenixes have a ceremony to awaken their powers. Yours was never conducted because your parents died before they could do it.”

Hongjoong shakes himself out of the shock.

“Is that why the river made him glow red and levitate after the cleansing? Yeonjun.. Is that the reason why the curse took so long to take effect?”

Eden nods and it’s suddenly years of thoughts Hongjoong had in the moments before sleep making sense, of unexplainable camaraderie his magic felt with Seonghwa from the get-go, of how he didn’t struggle as much as Hongjoong expected mundanes to while travelling through portals, of how Seonghwa had unknowingly been in awe of Hongjoong’s magic instead of being scared.

“Yeonjun had a feeling he conveyed to me. Wonwoo contacted me after you left and he confirmed my doubts,” the unfamiliarity of the name must show on his face, Eden clarifying, “Wonwoo is the envoy. Suddenly, it wasn’t mere speculation anymore. When our healers saw her first and said it was a phoenix counter curse, we thought she’d gotten cursed by a phoenix but you know how rare they are. Lo and behold, everything came together and made sense.”

_ Revelation _, this is what Eden meant by it.

It’s too many things at once and Hongjoong’s brain just refuses to cooperate, a multitude of emotions hitting him at once.

He’ll deal with all of it but right now, he just picks himself up from the ground, stare fixed on the witch who kept glaring at them with what seemed like all the hate she could muster. This was the person who was the cause of all the strife and pain he and his loved ones had to go through for a month, all because Hongjoong was doing his job and it doesn’t seem fair to talk more about Seonghwa and his newly discovered powers in her presence, so he stalks forward till he’s looking down at her through the barrier.

He will say what he wants to and they would walk out the door.

“I was doing my duty. To protect those who couldn’t protect themselves,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible, not wanting to sound like what he’s saying is all part of an emotional outburst, “If you wanted revenge, I was the person you should have picked. You picked the wrong person to hurt and now, you’re going to burn away slowly and no one will be able to help you, not even the gods themselves.”

The witch curses them out to all heavens as Eden slams the door shut.

Hongjoong knows what it’s like to lose family but defending people who had taken away precious lives for the joy of it, he had no sympathy for them.

“We have to talk,” Hongjoong tells him after Eden finishes the spell on the door.

“We do,” Eden agrees, “I’ll give you both a moment. Meet me in the common room when you’re done, Mingi and the others are waiting there.”

Eden’s footsteps fade into the distance and Hongjoong grabs Seonghwa’s hands, rubbing the inside of his wrists with his thumb, his magic content like the past month never happened.

Seonghwa looks disoriented, the revelation weighing in on him from all sides.

“Joong, do you…” he halts, “Is this going to change anything?”

Hongjoong shakes his head.

“No, nothing is ever going to change the way I feel about you, Hwa. Nothing is ever going to change us.”

Seonghwa nods, tearing up at the overwhelming rollercoaster of emotions he’s had to deal with in the past few minutes. Hongjoong wipes his tears, his own vision going misty.

Seonghwa leans down, touching his forehead against Hongjoong’s and there’s a fire in his eyes Hongjoong has always chalked up to his spirit, so many adjustments, so many things making more sense now than ever.

“Forever, Joong,” Seonghwa says, the fire in his eyes bright.

Hongjoong can’t possibly agree more with anything.

“Forever, Hwa,” he promises.

***

Coming to terms with the fact that his boyfriend possesses the powers of a warlock and a phoenix is easier than Hongjoong thinks it would be. 

Seonghwa learns to deal with the power, training both his powers to coexist. He doesn’t possess the full powers of either but merged together, it’s more power than a warlock or a phoenix alone. 

Hongjoong, in spite of all the promises he’s made to himself, doesn’t get much time to help Seonghwa, what with all the jobs he had passed on during the cursed month blindsiding him. The clamour will die out soon enough but it leaves him with little to no time and when he offers, Seonghwa flat-out refuses to get trained by him. It isn’t the best thing in the world, to be on the receiving end of the practiced spiel about distractions tumbling out of Seonghwa’s mouth so often that Hongjoong can repeat it word by word.

“He wants to show you how better he is getting,” Wooyoung says one day when Hongjoong is watching Yunho and Seonghwa practice, hidden as he is. Hongjoong is shocked at first at having been startled by the younger warlock but it soon turns into embarrassment at having been caught, for lack of better words, sneaking.

Seonghwa’s brows are set in a frown, his concentrated face on full display and when he finally manages to hit the target with a globe of crackling crimson light, Hongjoong just smiles at how high he jumps into the air before Yunho drags him back to practice. 

Other than that, Seonghwa just seems pleased about the fact that he doesn’t spend as much money as he used to on electricity bills for the cafe, thanks to his newly found powers which allow him to control and induce heat, something Hongjoong finds cute every time his boyfriend speaks about it. Jongho laughs in his face when Seonghwa points out the electricity bill part with the most excitement Hongjoong has ever seen on his face on something unrelated to himself. 

Seonghwa comes willingly when Hongjoong drags him in, then and there, planting a kiss on his lips, Hongjoong making sure to take his sweet time with his mouth, Jongho screeching in disgust.

Seonghwa remains the same, save for the occasional bouts of excitement when he returns home and Hongjoong is there to listen to him rant about the spells he learned during the day, as vaguely as possible. He’s still thrifty with his words, calmer than all of them combined together and Hongjoong…

Hongjoong continues to fall deeper.

There’s no end really and nothing in his existence regrets it.

And when they fall asleep together, red and gold intertwine like it was always meant to be.

Hongjoong’s magic hums at how close Seonghwa is to him and he silently wonders if Seonghwa’s magic can feel it too.

Seonghwa’s content hum is answer enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left now. Please leave comments and kudos if you liked what you read. Feedback really keeps me going, atinys. Thank you so much for reading.
> 
> Come yell at me on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/wooyoungisthesun)!


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a vague timelineish kind of thing of Hongjoong's life.

Hongjoong has more experience losing things he cherished to magic more than he’s ever gained through it.

He doesn’t hold bitter resentment in his heart for the force that runs through his body though, not like mundanes would if someone were to harm their loved ones. It’s probably the way his grandmother brought him up that has contributed to the way he has never considered vengeance as a solution to his being stripped of a childhood, devoid of being the subject of affection and doted upon by the soft and radiant smiles of his parents.

Hongjoong is nine, old enough to know and remember the faces of his parents, when he comes downstairs to see two young men seated on the sofa opposite his grandmother, dressed in long thick coats, oddly familiar star-shaped badges hooked to their chests. The men turn their faces to him, the fairer of the two, so pale he reminds Hongjoong of the sleeping Snow White gives him a sad smile, one Hongjoong returns sceptically but courteously, mostly because he doesn’t want his parents to be blamed for bringing up a son with bad manners.

His grandmother turns to face him, the pensive look on her face shifting to a sad smile, one very similar to the one the man gave him.

Nine-year-old Hongjoong is made to sit on the sofa, his sweaty hands which threaten to heat and cool simultaneously and release gold, luminescent tendrils tightly clasped in his grandmother’s soft and wrinkly ones as he is told that he’d never see his parents again.

Hongjoong doesn’t cry, doesn’t smile, doesn’t react at all, to be honest, and on the day of the funeral, it rains so heavily Hongjoong doesn’t even see his mother’s face properly, eyelashes drooping with water from the clouds, heavy and blurry, his father’s casket empty next to his mother’s as they’re buried six feet under in front of him.

His grandmother sobs silently behind him, Hongjoong wonders if he should cry too but there’s a wall between his emotions and no matter how he tries to claw at it, he’s refused access. 

The man with the pale, snow-kissed skin is part of the small group who stands like statues, guarding, watchful, slightly further away from the distant relative and acquaintance groups. When the rain slows to a drizzle and his grandmother is bidding goodbye to the people who came, the pale-skinned man walks towards him.

“Hongjoong, my name is Eden. Don’t forget it.” 

Hongjoong doesn’t ask how he knows his name or what that’s supposed to mean.

The man must realize his state of unresponsiveness because he kneels in front of him on one knee, a hand smoothing his wet hair back.

“If you’re scared, any time, be it night or day, ask your grandmother to call me.”

Hongjoong knows better than to trust strangers but the man’s face glows with something bright and it’s vaguely reminiscent of his father. 

The metal star on his black jacket glistens, catching Hongjoong’s attention again for the second time. 

He swears he has seen it somewhere. Perhaps, multiple times.

“What is that?”

The man, Eden, runs a hand through his black hair, sweeps it to the back and smiles.

“It’s given to those who are different who choose to help protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

Eden pats him on the shoulder before he leaves and Hongjoong swears he sees his eyes tint an electric blue.

No one really tells Hongjoong how his parents died and he doesn’t ask anyone either, doesn’t think he can hold his own when faced with the answer. 

All he cares for is that among the three people he loves most, two are gone.

He is nine but he is old enough to realise that the one he has left doesn’t have long on this plane of existence. 

Perhaps it’s his grandmother’s words of wisdom and her incredible patience that creates a boy who is mature beyond his age. 

Or perhaps it’s the gold and silver that runs through his veins, which crawls and creeps on the wall that blocks him from feeling, attempting to comfort him.

Hongjoong cries for his parents three weeks after their death when he’s out biking along the fields around his grandmother’s house, the wind hitting his face. Something like a hand runs through his hair and he pauses in his tracks, the pedal hitting his shinbone.

He looks around and sees nothing except for green grass almost half his height around him. His magic twists inside him and the wind freezes as he hears a whisper right next to his ear.

_ Hongjoong _, he hears and it sounds exactly like his father, filled with so much affection and pride.

He hikes his leg up, the bike falling to the ground as he sprints towards the voice which beckons him from farther away suddenly. He runs forward, his father’s voice fading into the distance till it’s completely gone, disappearing in the breeze that shakes up the grass he is surrounded in.

The first tear hits the ground and then, the sizzling static flares up in him and turns him into a sweaty conundrum, erratic and uncontrollable. Before long, he is bawling on the ground, curled into a ball on the soil which smells like petrichor and longing.

Nine-year-old Hongjoong dies a little inside that day but his grandmother finds him an hour later and holds him through the rest of the evening and then, the night.

When he turns ten, he asks her to call Eden after a particularly nasty incident at his school in the village, involving his best friend, a boy whose name Hongjoong doesn’t even dare to think about for fear of tarnishing it because he doesn’t deserve to say it, and three other classmates.

Eden had asked to call him if he was scared and Hongjoong is. 

Of himself.

Of what he could do.

He doesn’t mean to do it but some days, his magic has a mind of its own and under the weight of harrowing abandonment and being the centre of attention of his ailing grandmother for whose life he fears constantly, his magic gains ground on him by taking advantage of his lack of control and his ever-present anxiety.

Long story short, the quartet he nearly kills, survives, and Hongjoong never goes to a school again. The looks on the faces of his teacher and classmates, that however, he tucks into a corner of his mind to serve as a reminder of why he should never lose control.

When he’s ten years old, Hongjoong leaves behind the one person he loves and the village air, his hands threatening to spark with fire as she hugs him tight, knowing he has to do this to stop being a danger to others.

Eden takes him in after a long conversation with his grandmother behind closed doors. Hongjoong never understands the politics behind that because he's fairly certain that the offer at the cemetery didn’t have this particular clause in it.

He’s grateful for the attention and training anyway.

A year later, he’s given another hit in the form of his grandmother’s demise.

At eleven, Hongjoong loses another part of himself because of it.

By then, Hongjoong is friends with the other man who had visited him along with Eden years ago, a thin young man who hid his face behind his hair, Yujin, who spoke with the calmest voice in the world.

And when Eden comes home, bleeding profusely, obviously in pain and dying, Hongjoong is thirteen.

Eden is healed by a group of three men, stars adorning their chests and half their faces hidden by a mask and Yujin tells him the things that have never been stated outright to him.

The reason behind the death of his parents and grandparents.

The reason why he had to be hidden away in a remote village with wards covering the entire length of the property.

The reason why Eden took him in and how he is paying for it dearly.

At thirteen, Hongjoong wonders if he has anything left to lose.

Yujin teaches him he does.

That for what it’s worth, he had to learn control because it was his existence as a mage that made him and his loved ones a target, that once he learned control, no one would have to shelter him from harm because he’d be able to do that enough on his own.

At seventeen, on the verge of eighteen, Hongjoong masters control and burns down the band of people who have hunted his loved ones for nearly two decades.

It isn’t vengeance which motivates him but it’s fear that if he didn’t stop them at this moment, they’d kill Eden and Yujin and the boy next door who always gave him sugar when he ran out, that every person he met would be in danger for years to come.

It happens on a normal day, Eden and Yujin lazily making out on the couch, Hongjoong seated leaning against the couch, a book of spells in his lap and his magic enveloping them making Yujin giggle into Eden’s mouth. He doesn’t turn to look at them, the TV providing the white noise as he focuses on their presence and learns the spell to heal a werewolf with broken bones.

When the door splinters open, Hongjoong finds himself shoved away by the mage-witch pair he loved with all his heart, a stern _ Run _ thrown at him by Eden.

Hongjoong doesn’t.

The men have illusion tornadoes for faces. Hongjoong fights them, all the years of physical training with Yujin coming to good use. It all comes to a standstill when Yujin is stabbed.

Eden sprints to him, a dome of fire thrown at the men.

It doesn’t faze any of them.

“Come with us and they stay alive,” the man in the middle snarls.

“You already stabbed him,” Hongjoong whispers.

He walks towards them with his head down and it isn’t even completely intentional but his magic asks him a silent question, Hongjoong considers it and looks back at the people he’ll surely lose if he walks out that door and agrees.

The men burn when they touch him.

Eden watches the ash on the ground, his mouth quirked in a small smile, exhausted after healing Yujin. Yujin tucks Hongjoong against his chest and apologizes to him for making him commit such an act.

Hongjoong’s heart aches for the lives lost because he’s a mage but he finds comfort as he holds on tight to the lapels of the other’s jacket.

At eighteen, Hongjoong leaves home.

For a million reasons, the most pertinent of them being the way he’ll never be able to see another die for or because of him.

At eighteen, Hongjoong thinks life is over.

At eighteen, he’s drunk and finds himself stumbling into another bar and meets a group of two teenagers, both of them magical, literally and metaphorically. 

The connection sparks instantly. 

A band of two warlocks and a mage.

At eighteen, Hongjoong thinks life can begin again.

Meeting Yunho and Mingi feels like fate, a druid and werewolf added to the mix.

The Council, the one his parents and Eden and Yujin worked for, hires all of them, for their skill set and powers and Hongjoong finally finds the strength to use the shop and apartment that his parents had left for him.

Hongjoong is the one who finds his rowdy and merry little group of supernatural beings but it’s the other way around with Jongho and Yeosang who find him, separately, only to meet each other in the middle in a pleasant twist of fate.

Then, months later, Hongjoong thinks he’s found love and is disillusioned. He leaves teary-eyed and heartbroken but also relieved.

And at nineteen, he finds love in the form of a man, Seonghwa, who has warmth in his eyes and kindness in his hands, who looks like he could be indifferent but is the one who cares most, who makes pastries but hates trying them first, who cries openly but only ever with Hongjoong.

Fear makes Hongjoong tread lightly but Seonghwa gives him everything he never asked for and it’s hard to keep himself distant when the man his magic yearned for only ever gives him love.

In the form of an Ogham tree, Hongjoong marks Seonghwa for himself for all of eternity and after.

Hongjoong has more experience losing things he cherished to magic more than he’s ever gained through it but Seonghwa gets past that point very quickly.

Hongjoong likes to think it’s his magic’s way of apologizing for all that he’d lost, a silent way of saying, _ here you go, here’s a man who will love you forever, you can keep him_.

At twenty-four, Hongjoong nearly loses him but Seonghwa finds all of himself and comes right back to him.

And when Hongjoong realizes why everything feels so perfect with Seonghwa, the other man puts the two parts which make him whole into Hongjoong's hands and waits expectantly.

Hongjoong returns it to him and holds him close, "What you were, it never mattered to me. It never will. I just.. love you, with the magic, without the magic. It's a part of you but it isn't all there is to you."

Hongjoong makes a silent promise to himself to offer Seonghwa an eternity when it was time.

And when Seonghwa walks in, the murky skies a pale grey and the cafe bustling with life and the peculiar scent of coffee which clings to Seonghwa all the time, all Hongjoong can think about is that spell Eden taught him while talking about Yujin, the one spell which only someone who truly loves you could ever do, the one spell which wasn’t magical like the magic in his veins, pumping through his chest but was _just _magical enough for you to lose it like you’re cursed.

The one spell only Seonghwa and Hongjoong could ever cast on each other.

When Seonghwa finally locks eyes with Hongjoong, the smile that spreads on his face, bright and lovely, is enough for him to realize that he didn’t have to wait to cast it.

It was already done.

* * *

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm done!! Feel free to ask if you have any doubts. I would love to read your thoughts and comments on this fic so please leave comments and kudos if you liked it.
> 
> I have the plot for a Woosan spin-off set in the same universe because they had to go through a lot too and stuffing all that into this fic didn't seem fair to Seongjoong or Woosan. So, let me know if you'd like to see it happen.
> 
> Writing this fic has been an amazing experience and I hope you'll forgive all the inaccuracies and mistakes. 
> 
> Lastly, I would like to dedicate this fic to all the atinys who fought hard in all the voting that has been happening. I've been going mad voting from 123456789 accounts and I just want to tell you that we're doing great. ATEEZ didn't raise us to be weak, so fighting, atinys. All of this will be worth it, I promise.
> 
> Come yell at me on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/wooyoungisthesun)!

**Author's Note:**

> The things we don't see are often closer than they appear.
> 
> (micdrop)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought in the comments and give me the juice to finish this!! Leave kudos if you liked it~ Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Come yell at me on my [CC](https://curiouscat.me/wooyoungisthesun)!


End file.
